


Dibs

by grey853



Category: due South
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Male Slash, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 13:46:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/grey853
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turnbull asks Fraser for permission to court Ray. Meanwhile, Ray deals with a difficult case that leads to danger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dibs

**Dibs**  
by Grey  
[Grey853@aol.com](mailto:Grey853@aol.com?subject=Dibs)

* * *

The third crash from the hallway brought Fraser to his feet and to the door of his office. "Turnbull, what seems to be the problem?" 

Constable Turnbull looked up sheepishly as he lay on the floor and held up his feather duster like a small, trusty sword. "I'm sorry, sir. The ladder became unbalanced at the most critical point of the operation." 

Fraser thought the ladder wasn't the only thing unbalanced. 

Fraser immediately chided himself for his uncharitable thoughts and blamed Ray for his recent round of cynicism. His time with Ray made him much more prone to an expression of negativity than he ever had been before. Though to be fair, he really didn't need Ray to influence his opinion of his often hapless colleague. To redeem himself, he reached out a hand and helped the younger man to his feet. "Are you all right?" 

"Certainly, sir. No need for concern. I will endeavor to finish my domestic duties without further incident. I apologize for disturbing your work. I know how valuable your time is, especially since Inspector Thatcher is away for the remainder of the week." 

Something in the tone, just a little break and tightness, caught Fraser's attention. "Turnbull, is something wrong?" 

Without meeting Fraser's gaze, Turnbull blushed brightly. "Well, in all honesty, sir, I am rather distracted at the moment. That might explain my clumsiness of late." 

"Does this have something to do with your assignment here at the Consulate?" 

"No, sir. It's entirely a personal matter." At that point, Turnbull lifted his head, his big, blue eyes all round and far too innocent. "I know it's a great imposition, but I was wondering if perhaps at your earliest convenience, I could have just a moment of your time." 

"Is it about this personal matter?" 

"Yes, sir." 

Fraser cleared his throat, uneasy with the request. Dealing with Turnbull made his uniform itch ten times worse than usual. However, as his acting superior officer he had a duty to counsel him if need be. "Step into my office. I can spare you a few moments at present." 

"Thank you, sir." 

Once inside, Fraser shut the door. Turnbull waited for him to sit down before he spoke, his voice a little more nervous than usual. "Sir, please understand that I would never normally pry into your personal affairs." 

"I should hope not, Constable. It would, indeed, be highly inappropriate." 

"It's just that I need information that only you can provide." 

"What kind of information?" 

"It's about your relationship with Detective Vecchio." 

Disconcerted, Fraser rubbed his left eyebrow and wondered what possessed him to even pursue this disturbing conversation. "As you know, Detective Vecchio and I work together through my position as Liaison Officer." 

"I'm more interested in the personal factor, sir." 

"Personal factor?" 

Turnbull bit his lower lip, his voice now hushed as he leaned in as if sharing a secret. "I would never venture to pursue my own possibilities with Detective Vecchio if you two were already in an established romantic relationship." 

Fraser controlled the squeak in his voice, but just barely. "Romantic relationship? With Ray?" 

"Yes, sir. If the two of you are together, just tell me to mind my own beeswax. However, if that's not the case, I'd like your permission to see him on a social basis." 

Fraser opened his mouth but then closed it quickly, the suggestion that he and Ray were a couple too much of a shock. Then he processed the notion that Turnbull wanted to court Ray and his surprise turned into something else, something that made his stomach clench and his head spin. Ray's tedious infatuation with Stella twisted him up much the same way. Uneasy, he realized Turnbull had called his name several times. "Constable Fraser?" 

"I'm sorry, Turnbull, but I'm unsure how to answer your question." 

"I see." 

Fraser looked hopeful. "Do you?" 

"Well, no, sir, not exactly. I thought it was a rather straightforward question." 

"Ah, well, I suppose I should start with saying that while Ray and I are very close friends, we are not romantically involved." 

Constable Turnbull's face imitated the lights on a Christmas tree, practically blinking as he clapped his hands together in delight. "Yes!" 

"However..." 

"However?" 

"Yes, Turnbull, however, I should warn you that in my interactions with Ray, it's fairly apparent that he's entirely heterosexual in his interests." 

Disappointed, Turnbull tried to hide his feelings as he stubbornly persisted. "Are you absolutely sure, sir? In American society, it's been my experience that the homosexual and bisexual men often hide behind a shield of extremely overt heterosexual behaviors in order to mask their true orientation." 

"Are you saying that Ray's pretending to be heterosexual when, in fact, he's not?" 

"Well, sir, being homosexual myself, I've always prided myself in recognizing certain signs." 

"Signs?" 

"Indicators of receptiveness to homosexual advances." 

"And you're suggesting that Ray has somehow displayed such behaviors?" 

"Around you, yes, sir. That's why I thought it prudent to ask if you two were a couple before I risked saying anything to the detective about my own interest. I would never want to overstep my bounds." 

Fraser blinked several times to hide his surprise and then filed away the idea of Ray being open to his advances for later. "I'm sorry, Constable, but I really think you're barking up the wrong tree, as it were. As for your request for my permission to court my partner, none is needed. However, I should warn you, I don't think Ray will be interested." 

"Is he involved with someone else, then?" 

Fraser sat back, not wishing to be cruel, but not wanting the tall, sandy-haired man anywhere near his volatile partner. "Ray has a very complicated relationship with his ex-wife Stella. I truly think you'd be better served finding someone else on which to lavish your affections." 

"But I like Ray." The words came out almost a whine. To emphasize his point, Turnbull swallowed hard and repeated himself. "I mean to say, sir, I really, really like Ray. I've been so preoccupied lately. I keep thinking about the time he spent here during the unfortunate incident with that nasty Mr. Cahill." 

"Thinking about? In what way?" 

"Well, as you know, he's such a resourceful man and he cleverly maneuvered me into letting him borrow my uniform." Flushing slightly, Turnbull lowered his head as he whispered, "I haven't had that particular uniform cleaned since he wore it, sir." 

"Dear Lord. Are you telling me you've kept the uniform as some kind of trophy?" 

"Not a trophy as such, sir, more as a memento, a keepsake if you would." His voice became dreamy. "Sometimes at night when I can't sleep, I embrace the jacket and imagine I'm holding him in my arms, smelling him, touching..." 

"Enough, Turnbull." Fraser wet his lower lip and stood, his face bright red with embarrassment at his colleague's outrageous confession. He could not, would not think about Turnbull doing _things_ while he mooned over Ray. "Constable, your fetishes are your own business." 

Turnbull snapped to attention. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to offend you." 

"You didn't." Fraser took a deep breath, considering his words carefully. "However, I should caution you that I'm fairly sure he'll reject any and all advances on your part. I don't want either of you to be hurt." 

"Your concern is duly noted and appreciated, sir, but I feel compelled to at least tell him of my feelings." 

"You're sure about this?" 

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, sir." 

"Very well, then. Dismissed." Good luck stalled on Fraser's tongue as he waited for Turnbull to leave and shut his door. 

Fraser sagged back into his desk chair, perplexed, no longer able to focus on his files. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting off the growing tension. 

Turnbull and Ray, dear Lord. 

Fraser shuddered at the thought, couldn't imagine such a combination, didn't want to imagine. Diefenbaker woofed beside him. "No, it's not your business and, yes, I know you've mentioned it before." 

Diefenbaker barked again, this time a little louder. "Don't be ridiculous. Ray's not homosexual and Turnbull has a hole in his bag of marbles the size of the Yukon." 

Diefenbaker stood up and moved to stand beside Fraser before he yipped and nosed his hand. "I will not be bullied by a wolf." After another insistent rub against his leg, Fraser sighed and then stood up. "For God's sake, have it your way, but it's a ridiculous theory." 

Fraser grabbed his coat and hat before heading out the doorway, Diefenbaker walking close behind wearing his most satisfied wolfie grin. 

* * *

Ray rubbed both his temples as he pondered the sheer stupidity of the criminal mind. Thieves, thugs, two-bit hoods, most didn't have enough brain cells to keep breathing outside of a jail cell. But the exception, the smart crook, that's what kept him sharp, kept him on his toes, made it worth the bother of jumping through all the hoops to get the guy behind bars. 

Ray took a deep breath and then reopened the file on his desk. Jimmy "The Boss" Ross, ran the show when it came to loan sharking in his precinct. The guy knew how to work the system, had a topnotch lawyer, and rarely made a mistake big enough to get collared. Even then, the arrests never stuck, never sent him to prison where he belonged. Ray wanted Ross, wanted an end to his shakedowns, the beatings, the payoffs. 

Checking through another witness statement, Ray stopped and grinned at the familiar voice of his partner greeting Frannie. He looked up and appreciated the view, the broad shoulders, the sillyass pumpkin pants, the eyes so blue he wanted to dive in and take a swim. God, how Fraser turned his crank with a vengeance, made him hard with just a look, but that voice, that got the engine revved up without even trying. 

Ray sat back and waited for Fraser and Dief to get closer. "Hey, Frase. Thought you were stuck behind a desk all week." 

Fraser met his smile as he stood holding his hat, turning it nervously in his hands. "Quite right, but even an acting commanding officer has to have lunch, Ray." 

Ray checked his watch and frowned. "It's after two. You haven't had lunch yet?" 

"Have you?" 

"No, but..." 

"As I suspected. You need to eat lunch, Ray, even when I'm not here to set the schedule." 

"I was busy. Ross's men put another poor guy in the hospital, some college professor. Probably got behind on the vig or something." 

"The vig, Ray?" 

"Yeah, you know, the vig, the no way in hell you can pay it off interest on a loan from a street shark. I've been trying to figure out how to bust this scumbag before somebody gets killed." 

"You still have to eat." 

"Good point. My stomach's beginning to stick to the back of my ribs." Ray got up, closed the file, and threw his pencil on the desk. He grabbed his black leather jacket. "Any place in particular?" 

"Wherever you select is fine, Ray." 

Ray studied Fraser for just a moment and then frowned. "What's up?" 

"In what regard?" 

"You look funny." Fraser touched the back of his head self-consciously to check the state of his persistent cowlick. Ray snorted and shook his head as he walked out with Fraser beside him. "No, I mean, you look like you've got something on your mind." 

"Oh, I see. Well, actually, Ray, there is something I'd like to discuss, but I'd rather do it in private." 

Ray stopped in his tracks. "Private private or just some place away from the squad room?" 

"Somewhere away from the station should be sufficient." 

"Sufficient? What's this about?" 

"Ray..." 

"Never mind. Let's go to my place. My mum dropped off some stew a few days ago before she and Pop went off to Florida for the winter and there's no way in hell I can eat it all by myself. She always fixes enough for an army, like I'm going to starve or I was hitched with a house full of kids or something. We'll heat it up and you can tell me what's bugging you." 

"Well, it's not bugging, per se, Ray. It's just something of a personal nature." 

"Personal, huh?" 

"Yes." 

When Fraser didn't continue, Ray gave him a quick study. Tight lines around the eyes and thinned lips showed a tension he didn't often see unless Fraser had a serious problem. Ray stayed quiet until they got into the car and he started the engine. He figured he'd give Fraser a break and hold off on the hard questions until he got to his place. "So, how's it feel running the Consulate without Ice Queen nipping at your heels?" 

"Actually, Inspector Thatcher left things in good order, so the running of the affairs of the Consulate is really quite routine." 

"Yeah, I get bored sitting behind a desk, too." Fraser stared out the window, too quiet, too stony. "Fraser?" 

"Yes, Ray?" 

"What's going on? You're giving me the willies." 

"Willies?" 

"You know the creeps, like something's really wrong. You're too quiet." 

Fraser tugged at his left ear and still didn't look over at Ray. "There's nothing desperately wrong, Ray. I just have something I need to discuss. However, I'd prefer not to do it in the car since I'm afraid what I have to say might distract you." 

"Distract me?" 

"Yes." 

"I could pull over." 

"That's not necessary. I'd rather wait." 

"You sure? Because I could pull over right here, no problem." 

Fraser turned and met teasing eyes. "Ray, just drive." 

"Just trying to be helpful." Ray dodged between two cars, barely avoiding being clipped as he concentrated on the heavy traffic. Fraser remained quiet, so Ray drove even faster, curious about the big mystery. "You hungry?" 

"A little." 

Ray frowned at Fraser's uncharacteristic resistance to conversation. "Somebody piss you off?" 

"I'm not upset." 

"You could've fooled me." 

Fraser still didn't look over, but surprised him with a question out of the blue. "Do you see me as an observant person?" 

"Observant?" 

"Yes, as in alert, perceptive, watchful of others." 

"I know what observant means, Fraser. Jeez." Before his friend could speak, Ray pressed on. "Yeah, you're observant, even more than me sometimes. You see things I miss. Of course, I don't eat mud and sniff hubcabs, either." 

"But you often observe things that I fail to consider." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yes, which is why I think we have such an effective partnership." 

Ray glanced sideways, the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up. "What's wrong, Fraser? And don't give me any guff about nothing serious. You thinking about transferring again?" 

Fraser's head turned, his eyes intense, his expression even more somber. "No, Ray. Nothing like that. This is something entirely different. Let's wait until we get to your apartment and have lunch." 

"You make a guy nuts, you know that?" 

"I'm sorry, Ray. I don't mean to." 

"Yeah, I know." Ray swerved, changed lanes, and headed to his place even faster. He got even more concerned when Fraser didn't complain once about running red lights and stop signs or Ray giving a crazy ass driver the finger. 

* * *

Once inside his apartment, Ray pulled the big stew pot from the refrigerator and put it on the stove. He set it on low so it wouldn't scorch and then turned to see Fraser hanging up his hat and putting away his coat along with Ray's jacket. "You want something to drink? I've got tea." 

"That would be lovely, Ray. Thank you." 

"You take it straight, right?" 

Fraser choked and then cleared his throat. "Straight, Ray?" 

"Yeah, you know, no cream or sugar." 

"Ah, yes, right you are. Straight it is." 

Ray shook his head in frustration and then got a pan to boil some water. After he did that, he saw the blinking red light on his answering machine. "Let me check my messages and then we'll talk." 

"As you wish." 

Fraser didn't sit, just stood there waiting, his body and face tight and uneasy. Ray pushed the button and played back one message. 

"Detective Vecchio,...Ray, this is Constable Turnbull. I'm off duty at five and would appreciate hearing from you at your earliest convenience. I'd like very much to discuss a personal matter with you." The message paused and then Turnbull spoke very softly. "Please, Ray, call me as soon as you can. It's important. Thank you." 

Ray frowned as he turned to Fraser. "What the hell's up with Turnbull?" 

"I believe he wishes to pursue a romantic relationship with you." 

"Huh?" 

"I said..." 

"I heard what you said. This is a joke, right?" 

"I'm afraid not." Fraser moved to the sofa and sat down, but didn't lean back. He sat slightly forward, his voice low and strained. "This is difficult, Ray." 

"You're telling me. Are you saying Turnbull wants a date? With me?" 

"Yes." 

"And that's what you're upset about?" 

"I'm not upset." 

"Bullshit, Fraser, you're upset." 

"I'm not upset." 

"Upset." 

"Unsettled." 

Ray stepped to the sofa and sat down beside Fraser, their thighs mere inches apart. "Fraser, you're upset. I could see it as soon as you walked into the station." 

"Very well, yes, I'm upset." 

"Why?" 

Fraser turned his head and met Ray's steady gaze. "Why?" 

"Yeah. So what if he wants a date? Doesn't mean I'm interested." 

"You're not angry?" 

"About Turnbull?" 

"Yes." 

"No. Did you expect me to be pissed because he wants to go out?" 

"He wants more than that, Ray. I'm afraid he's quite smitten." 

"Yeah?" Ray couldn't suppress a smile. Turnbull liked him like that? Go figure. 

"Yes. He confessed his feelings for you this morning. I felt obligated to warn you." 

Ray sat back, his arm stretched across the back of the couch. He took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing with a growing suspicion. "Why would he confess his feelings for me to you?" 

"I am his commanding officer." 

"They do that in Canada? I mean, I don't go to Welsh about who I want to date, but Turnbull goes to you? I've got to ask myself, why is that? Why would a grown man, even a queer duck like Turnbull, go to you about who he can date?" 

Fraser tugged his right ear first and then his left, his skin flushed. He still wouldn't look directly at Ray. "We are partners, Ray." 

"So?" 

Waiting just a beat, Fraser wet his lower lip before he answered. "He wanted to know if we were in a romantic relationship." 

"Excuse me?" 

"I said..." 

"I heard you. He thinks we're doing it?" 

"Doing it?" 

"Yeah, you know, having sex, making love, doing it." 

"Ah. Well, yes, I believe so." 

"And why would he think that?" 

"I'm not sure." 

Ray scooted up closer to watch Fraser's face. "Come on, Fraser. Fess up. What else did he say?" 

"He wanted my permission." 

"Your permission?" 

"When I told him we were not romantically involved, he wanted my permission to ask you out." Fraser leaned forward even more, his elbows on his knees, his hands together. "I'm sorry, Ray. I tried to dissuade him. I told him that you were heterosexual in your orientation, but he seems determined to pursue you." 

"You told him I was straight, huh?" 

"It seemed prudent." 

"He doesn't seem convinced." 

Once again, Fraser's voice strained the words. "He's convinced you've exhibited certain receptive behaviors." 

"Receptive behaviors? You saying he thinks I'm not one hundred percent straight?" 

"I'm afraid so, yes." 

Ray snorted, surprised at Turnbull's unexpectedly accurate guess. The guy might be an okay Mountie after all. "Did he say what I did that counted as receptive?" 

"No, just that you acted that way around me." 

"Around you?" 

"Yes. I fear his desire has altered his perceptions somewhat." 

"You do, huh?" 

"I would say that his infatuation makes him see behaviors in a certain light so that he can convince himself that you'd be willing to accept his romantic proposals." 

"Seeing what he wants to see, huh?" 

"Exactly." 

Ray sighed heavily and then got up. He paced the room twice, rubbing the back of his head before he finally settled back down in the chair beside the sofa. "There's only one problem with that theory, Frase." 

"What's that?" 

"He's right." 

Fraser went very still, his eyes suddenly and intently trained on Ray. The soft hum of the furnace and traffic noises filled the room. Finally, Fraser whispered, "What are you saying, Ray?" 

"I guess I'm saying that Turnbull's not making it up." 

"You're gay?" 

"No, but I'm not straight, either, not completely. I mean, it was all kid stuff before Stella, but it was there. Can't deny it's been making a big comeback since I met you." 

"I don't understand." 

"I like you. I like you a lot, more than like even." 

Fraser's mouth opened briefly, but then closed. He didn't speak right away. Instead, he fell back against the cushions and stared. Finally, he swallowed hard and ran a tongue along his bottom lip as if the words might be too painful to speak out loud. "Why didn't you say something sooner, Ray?" 

"What could I say, that I've got feelings, that I want to mess around? What would you have said?" 

"I'm not sure." 

"At least that's honest." Ray moved a little closer. "Are you mad?" 

"About what?" 

"About this, about me feeling this way?" 

"Why would I be mad?" 

"I don't know. Guys get punched out for shit like this. I know you're Canadian, but you're still a guy, and we've never really talked about this kind of stuff, not about what you think about guys with guys." 

Frowning, Fraser's voice turned cold. "Ray, have I ever given you any reason to believe I discriminate against homosexuals?" 

"No, but..." 

"Then why in God's name would you believe that I'd think any less of you because of it? If anything, it would've made my life, our lives, a lot easier." 

"How's that?" 

Diefenbaker yipped and Fraser turned to snap. "Not now." 

"Not now what? Not now what, Fraser?" 

"It's not important." 

Diefenbaker barked louder and Ray motioned in the wolf's direction. "That's two against one. Spill. Tell me why telling you this stuff would've made things easier." 

Fraser spoke in a hush. "Because I could've confessed the same thing." 

"Shit." 

"I'm sorry. I should've told you." 

"We're idiots." 

"So it would appear." 

They remained quiet a few more seconds before Ray moved to sit next to Fraser. He took his hand in his and whispered, "Look, I know this is all new, but I don't want to date Turnbull. I want you. I love you. I have for a long time. I'm sorry it took something like this to get me to say it, but I was afraid." 

Fraser squeezed his hand and met his eyes. "Afraid?" 

"That you'd say no. You weren't putting out signals." 

"No, I wasn't. I was very careful about that." 

"Me, too." 

Fraser suddenly relaxed and let his forehead lean against Ray's. "But Turnbull saw it." 

"Yeah, but I wasn't hiding from him." 

Lifting his head, Fraser used his right hand to cup Ray's face, his thumb tracing his lower lip. "Stop hiding." 

"I will if you will." 

"Agreed." 

Lips met as Fraser pressed harder, his hand at the back of Ray's neck. Tongues explored gently before he pulled back. Ray took several deep breaths as he caressed Fraser's cheek, the light whiskers tickling his palm. "I've wanted that for a long time." 

"As have I." 

"You still hungry for stew?" 

Fraser stiffened and pulled back slightly. "We should eat, Ray. We are technically both still on duty. I need to get back to the Consulate." 

"And I need to get back to the station, but I think I'd rather kiss than eat stew. What about you?" 

Fraser answered him by devouring his mouth and slipping him his tongue, deep, hot, and Mountie flavored. Ray couldn't get enough. 

* * *

"Vecchio, get in here." 

Ray got up, still smiling and walking on air. Just the thought of getting back with Fraser later that night made him almost giddy. He stood in his Lieutenant's doorway, his lips still raw and tingly from Fraser's hungry kisses. "Yes, sir?" 

"What are you so happy about?" 

"It's a gorgeous day out." 

"Are you nuts? It's freezing and it's supposed to snow later." 

"Still, it's good to be alive, sir." 

Welsh ignored Ray's bright mood and turned to serious business. "Which brings me to the Bradford case." 

Ray lost his smile. "What about it?" 

"Phil Bradford died. It's now officially a homicide." 

"Died? Hell, I was just there this morning. They said he was serious, but stable." 

Welsh wiped a hand over his tired face. "Apparently his head injury was worse than they thought. He bled out and they couldn't revive him." 

"Damn." 

Making a fist, Welsh sat down and leaned back. "I want Ross, Vecchio. He's had a free run long enough. Nobody seems to be able to nail this scumbag. Why is that?" 

"Because he's smart enough to leave the dirty work to his thugs." 

"Then find me a thug to crack or something. I want Ross and I want him now." 

Ray crossed his arms and shook his head. "I don't know, sir. It's tough. This guy's got his ass covered twenty ways to Sunday. You know I've been working dead out on the case even before Bradford got busted up." 

"There has to be something, some weak point. I want you to go over it all again. You can pass on the Bentley and Stevens cases to Huey and Dewey if you want. Focus on Ross. See if you can get Fraser to help." 

"Thatcher's at a conference. Fraser's stuck at the Consulate all week." 

Disappointed, Welsh nodded in remembrance. "Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Well, at least run the case past him. The guy spots things that we're too close to see sometimes." 

"Sure, I can do that." 

As Ray turned to leave, Welsh called out. "And, Detective." 

"Yeah?" 

"I want this guy, but not at any cost. Watch your back and don't take any unnecessary chances. The cemeteries are full of dead heroes already. They don't need any more." 

Surprised at his lieutenant's unusual concern, he frowned. "I'll do my best, sir." 

"I'm sure you will." 

Ray hesitated even longer. "Sir, is there something about this case you're not telling me?" 

Welsh leaned forward, his elbows on the desk as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm just tired of lowlifes like Ross slipping through our fingers. It's time we made a few points for the good guys." 

"And that's all?" 

Welsh sighed and then sat back again. "Bradford was an old friend. I knew him back when I was on the streets." 

"I'm sorry, sir." 

Waving a hand, Welsh didn't look up as he spoke quietly. "Phil was a good man. He gambled and drank too much, especially after his wife died, but he was smart and the kind of guy who'd do anything for a friend. He called me last week. I should've paid more attention." 

Ray stepped closer to Welsh's desk. "What did he want?" 

"I don't know. He said he just wanted to talk, but I was busy. I told him we'd get together this week sometime. Now, it's too late." Regret colored the words, made them heavy in the air. 

"You couldn't know this was going to happen." 

"No, but when a guy you used to be friends with calls up after ten years, it should've been enough to make me take a few minutes to at least see what he wanted. Instead, I was tired, so I put him off." 

"Now you want to make up for it by going after Ross." 

"It's not a personal vendetta, Vecchio. Ross is a serious criminal. His free run's over." 

Ray held up both hands in surrender. "I'm not arguing. I just hope I can find something that connects this to Ross beyond a shadow of a doubt." 

"Start with the college. Talk to Phil's friends. Find out if he said anything to them about needing money. Phil always liked to talk a lot. Maybe he said something that could link Ross to the beating." 

"I already planned to do that." 

Welsh looked up, the fatigue adding years to his already haggard appearance. "I'm sorry, Vecchio. I know you're a good cop. One of my best. That's why I want you to handle this. Get this guy off the streets. Meanwhile, I'll take care of notifying the next of kin. He had a daughter." 

"Jane." 

"You met her?" 

"At the hospital, yeah." 

"Right. Makes sense." 

"Not really, sir. She said she'd been estranged from her dad for a couple of years." 

"Estranged?" 

"Yeah. Said she married somebody he didn't approve of." 

"But she was there at the hospital?" 

"Yeah. He's family. What can you do?" 

"Right." The lieutenant closed his eyes briefly and then motioned toward the door. "Hit the streets. Find me something." 

"Yes, sir." 

Ray closed the door behind him and wished to hell he had Fraser by his side. Taking down Ross wouldn't be easy, but after all Welsh did for him, he wanted to do it right and make it stick. He'd hit the college first and then stop by to see Fraser. Maybe his Mountie would have a fresh eye to tell him what he was missing. 

* * *

Ray hated school. Grade school, high school, college, it didn't matter. They all made him feel useless and stupid, always did. He pushed down the bad memories of piss poor grades, angry teachers, and disappointed parents while he waited for Dr. Stevens to dismiss her class. She said a few words to her assistant and then turned her attention to Ray. "What can I do for you, Detective? Is this about Dr. Bradford?" 

"He died from head injuries earlier today. I'm trying to get a picture of his life. Find out who'd want to kill him." 

Middle-aged, a plain, no nonsense kind of woman, Stevens shook her head. "I've got no idea." Serious brown eyes studied him a few moments. "Why talk to me?" 

"Well, you're in the same department and I've talked to a couple of other people and they all mentioned you and Bradford spent a lot of time together." 

"Ah, well, in that case, we must have been sleeping together." 

"Were you?" 

The laugh surprised him, deep and throaty, almost masculine. "Not hardly. He wasn't my type. Still, we were friends, or we used to be." 

"What happened?" 

Pain twisted her features and then she sighed deeply. "Let's go to my office. It's just down the hall. I need some coffee and we can discuss the rise and fall of a great friendship." 

Ray followed her to a cramped little office full of books, files, and papers stacked high. She motioned to a chair and then lifted a mug. "Coffee?" 

"No, thanks." 

"Probably wise. This stuff's like battery acid." 

Ray prompted, "About Dr. Bradford." 

Stevens poured herself a drink and sat down, not bothering with cream or sugar. She took a sip and then spoke quietly. "Phil was a good man, kind, very affectionate. He wanted more from our relationship than I could give him." 

"I'm sorry." 

"No, it's all right. That's not what drove him down the path of self-destruction. It was Jane." 

"Jane, his daughter?" 

"Yes. She married somebody Phil hated. He wasn't quite himself after that." 

"Who'd she marry that he hated so much?" 

"I'm not sure. Some man by the name of Rico something." 

"Was Bradford upset because the guy was Hispanic?" 

Stevens met his eyes, angry at the assumption. "Not at all. Phil wasn't a bigot. He was, however, afraid for his daughter. This person was apparently involved in illegal activity." 

Cop senses tingled as Ray sat forward. "What kind of illegal activity?" 

"I'm not sure. Drugs maybe, but I got the feeling it was worse than that. At any rate, Phil lost all sense of perspective. He started ditching his classes, failed to meet deadlines, or to even show up at faculty meetings. If he hadn't had tenure, he would've been let go. He became completely obsessed with collecting information about this man Jane married." 

"Why would he do that?" 

"I think he figured if he could convince Jane that he was a criminal that she'd leave him. I tried to talk to him on several occasions, but he wouldn't listen." She paused and then put her cup down. "There is one thing. Last week, he said something strange." 

"Strange?" 

"I was checking the latest batch of papers from my survey class and Phil came by unexpectedly to see me. We hadn't talked in weeks, but he made a special effort to let me know that he would be publishing something soon." 

"Why is that strange? I thought you college professors had to publish stuff to keep your jobs." 

"Yes, we do, but I don't think he was talking about an academic paper." 

"Why not?" 

"He said he was meeting with a publisher. That made me think that he might have written a book." 

"A book?" 

"And if he did, he'd have it on his computer." 

"Computer?" Ray scanned back through his notes to be sure. "There's no computer in his office or his apartment." He looked up. "Where'd he keep a computer?" 

"He used a laptop. I don't know where it'd be if it wasn't in either of those places." 

"And he didn't say what the book was about?" 

Stevens leaned forward on the desk, her face drawn. "I wish I could help you, Detective, I really do. He didn't tell me what it was about, but I would imagine it was about his obsession." 

"Obsession?" 

"With local crime." 

Ray's gut tightened. "Did he ever mention a guy named Jimmy Ross?" 

"Ross?" 

"Yeah." 

"I don't think so, no. The only name he ever mentioned was Rico." 

"Is there anything else you can think of that might help me find out who killed him?" 

"No, but you can talk to his daughter, or better yet, talk to Alex Forster." 

"Alex Forster? Who's he?" 

"Not he, Detective, she. Alexandra Forster is, or was, his assistant. They were close. If anyone knows what he was up to or what happened to his computer, she would." 

Ray scratched his head in frustration. Nobody had mentioned this Alex before. "Okay, thanks. Do you know where I could find this Forster woman?" 

"She's a grad student working on her dissertation. I'd check out the library. She has an apartment off campus, but I don't know the address." 

Ray stood up and extended a hand. "Thanks. You've been very helpful." 

"You're welcome, Detective. Good luck with finding out who did this. Phil deserved better." 

As he turned to leave, she added, "You might want to ask around at Barney's, too." 

"Barney's? Are you talking about the bar called Barney's?" 

"Yes. I know Phil spent a lot of time there. Just a thought." 

"Thanks." 

As soon as he walked out the door, he flipped open his cell phone to get more background checks. Barney's was a Ross hangout run by a guy named Rico Santos. Oh, yeah, thank you kindly, doc. He had a connection. 

* * *

Bounding into the Consulate, Ray needed to see Fraser in a really big way. He stopped dead when he saw Turnbull's happy face instead. "Oh, hey. I was looking for Fraser." 

Turnbull stood up behind his desk in the hallway and smiled expectantly. "Welcome to Canada, Ray. Constable Fraser stepped out for a few minutes." 

"He's not here?" 

"No, but he should return shortly." 

"Where'd he go?" 

"Official business." Turnbull moved from behind his desk, his voice all low and breathy as he put a hand on Ray's shoulder. "I was hoping to speak to you in private, Ray. Did you get my message?" 

Ray swallowed hard, pissed that Fraser hadn't done the dirty work of letting Turnbull down easy. Fuck. "Well, yeah, but I'm on a case right now so I've been really busy." 

"Oh, I understand completely." Turnbull stood up straighter and removed his hand after a quick squeeze. He never took his eyes off Ray for a second. "I was just hoping that if you weren't busy tonight, we could have dinner together. I've got a proposal I'd like to make." 

"A proposal?" 

"Yes. There's a lovely restaurant that serves excellent Italian cuisine nearby. If that's not to your liking, we could go anywhere else you prefer. Your wish is my command, Ray. I think we need to talk about the future." 

Ray took a deep breath, keeping his voice even, hoping like hell Turnbull wouldn't go to pieces. "Look, Turnbull, you're a nice guy, a good Mountie. I like you, I do, but Fraser called dibs, so I'm kind of taken already. Sorry. It's the rules." 

"Dibs?" 

"Yeah, you know, called dibs, made the first move, staked a claim, wanted me to be his one and only." 

"But Constable Fraser told me this morning that you two weren't a couple." 

"We weren't, but we are now. Sorry." 

Smacking him would've been kinder. Turnbull's face flushed and he blinked several times as he cleared his throat. His voice shook as he worked to keep from crying. "I'm very happy for you, Ray. I should've called dibs earlier, but I was unaware of such a custom." 

"Don't be mad at Fraser, okay? I would've turned you down even if you had asked earlier." Ray stepped closer, keeping his own voice steady. "I've been waiting a long time for him to finally do something. I guess in a way I owe you." 

"Owe me for what?" 

"Giving him the push he needed to make a move." 

"I'm glad to be of assistance." The words came out hollow, empty. 

Ray held out his hand. "No hard feelings, okay?" 

"Of course not." Turnbull looked first at the hand and then at Ray before he took it. He shook hands and then released the grip before he whispered, "I do wish you the best of luck, Ray, but I must confess to feeling rather disappointed. I had hoped we could at least be close friends. It's difficult in a big city like Chicago to meet people of like mind. One does tend to get lonely and a bit heartsick." 

Ray wanted to kick his own ass. Stella stomped on his heart enough to recognize the look Turnbull wore, all ragged and torn up. He hated being the one who caused it. "You'll find somebody. You've just got to get out more, that's all." 

"Perhaps." 

"No perhaps. Look, let me think about it. I'm bound to know somebody you could hang out with." 

"You mean act as a matchmaker of sorts?" 

"Something like that, yeah. I'm not making any promises, but I'll make a few calls, see what I can do." 

Turnbull smiled, but it didn't reach his reddened eyes. "I appreciate that, Ray, but it's not necessary. Now, if you don't mind, I'm off duty. I need to lock up." 

"Is it okay if I wait here for Fraser?" 

"It's not official procedure, but I don't see why not. I'm sure Constable Fraser would approve." 

"Okay, thanks." 

As soon as Turnbull left, Ray sat on the edge of the desk. Damn Fraser anyway for leaving him to lower the boom on the poor guy. Chicken Mountie. 

Five minutes later Fraser walked in the door with Diefenbaker clicking at his heels. "Ray." 

"Fraser." 

"What's wrong?" 

"Why didn't you tell Turnbull about us?" 

"Ah." 

"Don't ah me. You should've told him so I wouldn't have to. I felt like a real jerk, a real asshole having to do that. You should've told him." 

Fraser turned and locked the Consulate door behind him and then stepped closer to Ray. "To be honest, I couldn't bring myself to disillusion him of the possibility." 

"So you left it up to me." 

"I'm afraid so, yes." 

"You owe me." 

Still wearing his heavy coat, still smelling of the cold and damp wool, Fraser stepped to stand between Ray's spread legs. "What would you say would be adequate payment, Ray?" 

His cock knew the answer, but Ray didn't want to rush things. Instead, he hooked the back of Fraser's neck and drew him closer, his voice husky. "A kiss for starters. We'll discuss the rest of the payment plan later." 

"As you wish." Fraser's mouth met his, their tongues meeting, getting acquainted, slow and easy. Fraser pulled back, their faces just inches away. "I missed you. I've thought of nothing else since we parted." 

"Yeah, me, too. Let's go to my place. We'll eat, talk, mess around a little." 

Fraser blushed scarlet. "Mess around, Ray?" 

"You know, neck a little, do some petting, and, if we're lucky, see where it goes from there, that is if you want to." 

"Oh, I want to, Ray, very much so." 

Ray smiled at the neediness he heard, so he pushed for a little more. "You want to pack a bag, maybe spend the night?" 

"You want me to spend the night?" 

"Yeah, if you want. Don't want to rush things too much, but..." 

"That would be fine, Ray. I'd like that." 

"What, staying the night or rushing things?" 

Fraser smiled and caressed his cheek, his eyes studying Ray with an intensity that made Ray shiver all over. "It's hardly rushing things, Ray. We've been headed this way for some time and we are consenting adults." 

"Yeah, I'm consenting like crazy." 

"I can see that." Fraser leaned in for another brief kiss before he added, "Let me pack a few things. I'll be right back." 

"Sure, sure, okay. I'll stay right here." To be honest, Ray didn't think he could move without embarrassing himself. He sat still and thought about how drastically his life had changed in just a few hours. Fraser wanted him, really wanted him. He could hardly believe it, but he wanted more than anything to make it real and never ending and a lot more than a casual fuck. He remembered back to earlier that afternoon. He'd told Fraser he loved him, but Fraser never said it back, not out loud, not in words. 

Small panic brought him up off the desk and he stepped to the door of Fraser's office. He saw his partner packing a small bag with underwear, toothbrush, and comb. "You about set?" 

"Almost." 

Ray stood there, his hands stuffed deep into his jeans pockets. "Fraser?" 

"Yes, Ray?" 

"I love you." 

Startled, Fraser turned and smiled back. "And I you, Ray." The smile faded into something far more serious and intense. Fraser moved close, wrapping an arm around Ray's waist. "I didn't say it before and I should have. It all just happened so fast, but I know you. You need to hear the words. I love you, Ray. This isn't something I do lightly. I think you know me well enough to know that." 

Relaxing into an embrace, Ray nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He rested a head on Fraser's shoulder until he could find the words. After a few moments, he whispered, "Thank you." 

"For what?" 

"For knowing me, for loving me despite knowing me. I know I'm needy sometimes and I'm not the easiest guy to love." 

"On the contrary, Ray. I find loving you the easiest thing I've ever done." 

Ray lifted his head, incredulous, but saw truth in those blue grey eyes. "Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

"Same here. I think I fell hard when you asked me to go get something to eat that first night. Remember?" 

"I do, indeed." 

"We went out and talked for hours about stuff, about your life and my life, and I thought, this guy's cracked, but in a good way." 

"Why thank you kindly, Ray." 

"I mean it." Ray ran a finger along Fraser's bottom lip. "I couldn't take my eyes off you and it's not just because you're the best looking guy on the planet, either. It was more than that." 

"What was it?" 

"It was you, just you. You just seemed so comfortable and exciting at the same time. I just knew we'd be good together." 

Fraser kissed Ray's roving finger, sucking it inside his mouth. Then he spoke quietly, still holding Ray tightly against his body. "I never knew." 

"Not even a little?" 

"I hoped, but I never really believed it. Diefenbaker tried to tell me, but I didn't listen." 

"Why not?" 

"Insecurity, I suppose, or fear. Like yourself, I was afraid. You have to admit that you hid your deeper feelings very well." 

Ray sighed with regret and then leaned in for a brief kiss. "Yeah, I'm good at hiding. Let's go. I want to get home before it starts snowing too hard." 

"We're only supposed to get a few inches." 

Ray smiled mischievously. "Well, I'm expecting more than a few inches, Frase." 

Fraser caught his double meaning and blushed, but grabbed his overnight bag and hurried out to the car with a hopeful smile on his face. 

* * *

On the way home, the GTO handled like a carnival ride, spinning and skidding around, just on the edge of losing control. By the time they arrived at his place, Fraser got out with Diefenbaker, his face a little more pale than it should be. "Ray, this car is not safe to drive in icy conditions. I've handled dogsleds that didn't slide that much." 

"Are you kidding? People pay to have fun like that." 

"Fun? We nearly wrecked three times." 

"But we didn't." 

"Only because of your expertise at the wheel. You really should consider another car during the winter." 

"I need snow tires. Just haven't had time." 

Fraser reached in for his bag as Ray came around the end of the car. "Do you already have the tires?" 

"Yeah. They're stored at a friend's garage. It wouldn't take long to make the switch. I've just been too busy." 

"Please make time." 

Ray glanced sideways as they walked together into the building. "You worried?" 

"Yes." 

Ray stopped. "Yeah?" 

"Ray, I don't want anything to happen to you when it could be prevented." 

Touched by the concern, Ray nodded. "I'll do it first thing tomorrow." 

"Thank you." 

"You're welcome." 

They didn't speak again until they got to Ray's door and went inside. Ray only had enough time to shake off the snow before hands grabbed him and pushed him hard against the wall. "Ray, Ray, Ray..." 

Ray didn't get to say Fraser before his partner kissed him hard, harder than he ever had before. Grinding up against him, still wearing his coat, Fraser groaned into his mouth. Ray's erection got happy with the pressure as he pushed back. Hungrily, Fraser growled as he pulled away long enough to whisper, "Bedroom." 

"Oh, yeah, bedroom's good." 

Fraser never released him, just held on, biting and licking his neck as they backed into Ray's bedroom. Ray's legs hit the end of the mattress and he sat down, pulling Fraser with him. "Fraser, Fraser, clothes." 

"No, thank you." 

Ray chuckled despite the growing urgency of his own desire. "Clothes, Fraser. This works better with no clothes." 

Fraser lifted his head, his eyes all glazed and his pupils dilated to black. "Ah, naked. Good idea, Ray." 

Without further discussion, Fraser stood up, stripped off his coat and tunic, folding them neatly over a chair nearby. He had to sit down to take off his boots before removing his trousers. Ray, meanwhile, took his own clothes off, not bothering to be neat, just chucking them to the side. As soon as Fraser took off his underwear, Ray grabbed him and pulled him on top. He drank in the heat as the muscular body pressed him down against the mattress. "God, you're beautiful." 

A broad hand stroked Ray's chest, fingers teasing the sparse, golden chest hair. "As are you, Ray." 

"I thought we were going to work up to this." 

Fraser cupped his face with one hand. "Would you like me to slow down?" 

Ray answered with a kiss, his tongue lazy and hot as it wrestled with Fraser's. Meanwhile, his partner rocked against him, their cocks lined up, rubbing hard. Ray gasped at the delicious wildfire racing through his middle way too fast. He wanted to slow down, but found he couldn't, not with Fraser thrusting against him, not with Fraser's mouth now working its way along his neck and shoulders. His skin buzzed all over, wanted more. He couldn't wait, couldn't stop the building pressure as it suddenly exploded. Ray fell off the edge into freefall, bright colors flashing, the brilliant whoosh of coming flaring all through his cock and balls. Air didn't bother with his lungs for several long moments as he shook all over. Fraser moaned and bucked hard, his licks and kisses even more desperate before he suddenly stilled. 

Deadweight, Fraser groaned into Ray's neck. "Dear Lord." 

Ray couldn't even manage that much. He closed his eyes, his muscles wasted and weary. A few minutes later, teeth nibbled at his ear and he blinked as he whispered, "Hungry?" 

"Starving." 

"I've got stew." 

"Perhaps later." 

Ray whimpered as Fraser's mouth moved against his own, the possessive tongue capturing and then teasing. His brain shut down as Fraser once again set up a rhythm against his body, proceeding to go at it again. Ray didn't have to think, didn't have to wonder how he could come one more time. He just let Fraser slide and stroke, making love with an unrelenting passion Ray needed as much as he did. 

* * *

Lying in a bed soaked with sweat and smelling like high-powered sex, Ray lifted his head from Fraser's still heaving chest. "I think we need a shower." 

"I don't think I can move just yet, Ray." 

"I wasn't talking about just this minute." 

"Thank goodness." Ray rubbed his beard against the smooth skin of Fraser's belly. The hitch of breath made him laugh as Ray kissed his lover's navel. A hand cupped the back of Ray's head, the fingers combing up through his hair. "Ray, what are you doing?" 

"Checking for batteries." 

"What?" 

"Energizer Mountie keeps going and going and going." 

Fraser chuckled, his breathing just returning to normal. "I'll take that as a compliment." 

"Damn right you will. Jesus." Ray shifted and snuggled up against him, closing his eyes, drinking in the rich musk that was so like Fraser. "That was great, real greatness. I didn't expect that." 

"What did you expect?" 

"I don't know. I guess I figured you'd be shy, want to take it slow." 

Fraser's voice softened. "Does it bother you that I took the initiative?" 

"Hell, no." Ray lifted his head and ran a finger along Fraser's chin. "I liked it, liked it a lot. It just took me by surprise, that's all." He dropped his head back down against Fraser and allowed the arm to hold him tighter as he pulled up a sheet to cover their cooling bodies. "It's just been so long, I forgot how good it felt to do it with someone other than myself, you know?" 

"I know." 

"And not just anybody, Fraser. It felt so great because it was you." 

Fraser kissed the top of his head and then gave a quick hug. "Thank you, Ray. I feel the same way. Our intimacy increased the pleasure to a much higher degree than I ever could have hoped for." 

"Then I don't have to ask if it was good for you, huh?" 

"You'd be a poor detective if you couldn't tell, Ray." 

"Oh, I could tell all right. No doubt about it." Ray reached under the sheet and ran his hand up and down Fraser's side. In the quiet, his stomach growled. 

"Hungry, Ray?" 

"A little, yeah." Ray still didn't move, just closed his eyes and swam in the warmth between them. "Guess we should get cleaned up and heat up some stew, unless you want something else. We could order a pizza." 

"Stew's fine." 

Neither man moved. "Fraser?" 

"Yes, Ray?" 

"You want to shower first?" 

"Not really." 

"Me, neither." 

A few more minutes passed and Ray nearly nodded off to sleep before the phone rang at the bedside. "Shit." 

Fraser stretched over and picked up the receiver, handing it to Ray. "Yeah?" 

"Vecchio. Welsh. They've got a dead body in a warehouse off Elmer. You need to get down there right away." 

"That's not even our precinct." 

"I know that, but the initial ID is for an Alexandra Forster." 

"Damn." Ray sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. 

"How soon can you be there?" 

"With this weather, thirty minutes." 

"Make it twenty. And, Detective, the guy in charge is Anderson." 

"Gil Anderson?" 

"You got it. Sorry, Ray. Not my call." 

Welsh clicked off as Ray hung up the phone. "Fuck." 

"Ray, what's wrong?" 

"I need a shower. One of the possible witnesses on my Bradford case turned up dead." 

"I'll come with you." 

"You already did that." Ray made the joke, but neither man even smiled. "Sorry, bad timing." 

"Ray, seriously. Let's get cleaned up and get something to eat. You haven't eaten all day." 

"Have you?" 

"I had breakfast and then an apple after I left to go back to work this afternoon." 

Ray stood up, ran a hand through his hair. "I don't have time." He stood there and met concerned eyes. "You don't have to go with me." 

"I want to." 

"Thanks." 

As Ray headed to the shower, he heard Fraser moving around in the bedroom, changing the sheets and talking to Dief. As he turned on the water, he prayed Gil Anderson wasn't the same sorry son of a bitch he'd been three years ago when he first fucked around with Stella. 

* * *

Blond and blue-eyed with perky little breasts, Alex Forster had just the right package to turn most men's heads. Unfortunately, death robbed her of that youth and beauty. It stole away that stunning quality Ray knew she no doubt had before someone cut her up and hung her naked body upside down in a deserted warehouse. 

Fist to his mouth to keep from barfing, Ray watched the coroner's team take her down from the hook and put her in a black bag on a gurney. 

As they rolled her body out, Anderson came up and stood beside him. "Pretty damn sad." 

Ray turned his head. "Yeah, it is." 

Gil trained dark brown eyes in his direction. "Ray, it's been a long time." 

"Not long enough." 

"You want to be an ass about this or do you want to know what's going on?" 

"Just give me a run down." 

"Who's the guy in red first?" Fraser kept silent beside him, but Ray saw his partner stand a bit straighter, his back up, his expression more guarded. 

Ray gave Anderson the spiel he knew by heart. "This is Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. He first came to Chicago on the trail of his father's killers and for reasons that don't need exploring at this time, he's chosen to remain as a liaison between the Canadian government and the Chicago PD." 

"You're kidding." 

"Nope. He's my partner while I'm at the 27th." 

"As Ray Vecchio. Yeah, Welsh told me." Gil held out a hand to Fraser. "Nice to meet you, Fraser. Don't think I've met a real Mountie before." 

They shook hands briefly as Fraser commented, "I take it you and Ray know one another." 

Gil glanced at Ray and shrugged. "You could say that. I..." 

Ray interrupted. "It's old news. Back to the case, Anderson. Fill me in." 

Ignoring Fraser's frown at his rudeness, Ray listened as Anderson ran down the facts of the case. "Forster went missing from her apartment around noon. The coroner said she was raped, tortured, and then stabbed to death soon after that. Pretty cut and dry, except I don't have a motive. I mean, this could be just another perv killer, but when I got the call from Welsh, it made me think there's more. He said there might be a connection to the Bradford case you're working." 

"Might be. We don't know yet. Bradford was a college professor. Forster was his assistant. Might be a coincidence, but I doubt it." 

"Yeah, me, too. So, what do you want to do? I can give you what I get on this case if you'll give me what you've got on Bradford. We can work separate or we can work together. It's your call." Anderson paused. "Look, Ray, I got no hard feelings about what happened, but if you do, I can understand that. It's up to you." 

Ray studied the square, handsome face as he remembered the black eye and broken nose he'd given the man a few years ago after he'd found him in bed with Stella. Ray swallowed hard to control his shaky voice. "I'll have to think about it. Let me get back with you. I'll fax over what I've got on the Bradford case so far. When you check out her place, see if there's a laptop computer." 

"Computer? Why's that important?" 

"Bradford's went missing. We think it might have something on it his killer wants. There's a rumor he was writing some kind of book about Chicago crime." 

"Fuck. That's a quick ticket to trouble." 

"Yeah. Anything else we can do here?" 

"No, the crime scene people will get back to us later." Anderson moved one step closer, but Ray didn't move, held his ground. "It wasn't all my fault, Ray, you know that." 

"Yeah, I know that." Ray turned away and met Fraser's concerned gaze. "Come on, Fraser, let's go. We're done here." 

"Certainly, Ray." Fraser tipped his hat towards Anderson. "Good night, Detective." 

"Constable." 

In the car Fraser pulled on his seat belt and kept quiet until Ray started the car. "Ray?" 

"Fraser." 

"I sensed a great deal of hostility toward Detective Anderson." 

"Yeah, you could say that." 

"Would you like to tell me about it?" 

"Not really, but I guess now is as good a time as any." Ray cranked up the heater and crossed his arms as he sat there mustering up enough spit to form the words. "He and Stella, they were messing around behind my back before we got divorced." 

"I'm sorry." 

"Not your fault." 

"I know, but still, that must have been extremely difficult." 

"You can't even imagine." 

Fraser's arm reached over and his hand squeezed Ray's shoulder. "I think I can, Ray. I understand about loss and betrayal and I know how devoted you are to Stella." 

The words choked his throat, the memories all flooding back as he told the story. "I couldn't believe it. I walked in and there they were, in our bed. It's like she wanted me to know, like she wanted to rub my face in it. Hell, I'm lucky I put my gun away at the door. I went kind of ballistic." 

"I take it you and Detective Anderson fought." 

"Oh, yeah, more than once." 

"And you and Stella?" 

"I forgave her." 

"I see." Fraser squeezed his shoulder again and removed his hand. 

Ray turned sideways in his seat, his arms still wrapped around his chest. He shook despite the blast of the heater. "What's that mean, I see?" 

"Nothing." 

"I see always means something, Fraser. What do you mean?" 

"I'm just surprised that you could do that." 

"Love makes you stupid sometimes. I've thought about it a lot and the best I can figure is that I just wasn't ready for it to be over. Besides, she could always talk me into anything, anytime. She told me it was just a one time thing, that she was pissed about me neglecting her. To be honest, I felt guilty and I heard what I wanted to hear." 

"Guilty for what?" 

"I was doing an undercover gig at the time. That's why I caught them in the first place. I wasn't supposed to be home yet, but the operation closed up early. I didn't call to let her know because I wanted my coming home to be a surprise. It sure as hell was that." 

"Did Stella give up her relationship with Detective Anderson after that?" 

"She said she did, but looking back, no, I doubt it. I think she saw him some more after that. I didn't want to see it, but, yeah, I think they carried on for a while longer. I sort of lost it." 

"Lost it?" 

"Yeah, I punched out Anderson in front of witnesses in the middle of his squad room. It took four guys to pull me off. I got suspended and had to see the department shrink. They wrote it off as job stress." 

"And what did Stella do during this time?" 

"Told me that I needed to control myself better, that my violence scared her, like I'd ever hit her. Shit. I'd never hurt her, never, Fraser." Ray's eyes stung and he quickly brushed away a tear. "Anyway, it wasn't much longer after that when we separated. She used me hitting Anderson as an excuse, but I knew it was more than that. A year later, she divorced me. I was kind of a mess for a while, but you probably already figured that out." 

"Is that why you took this undercover operation, Ray?" 

"Yeah, I guess. Everybody knew I was having trouble. This came along and they thought it'd do me good." 

"And did it?" 

Ray looked hard at Fraser and grinned. "Yeah, you could say that." He resisted the urge to pull Fraser into a hug and give him a big kiss. The squad cars nearby made him cautious. "Come on. Let's go home." 

"Home, Ray?" 

"Yeah, my place, our place, whatever you want to call it." 

"Home it is, then." 

* * *

Ray finished his third beer and pushed away the half-eaten bowl of stew. Fraser looked over and frowned. "You didn't eat much." 

"Not hungry." 

"But you seem to be thirsty." 

"Yeah, well, it's been a long day." Ray didn't bother making an excuse. He just got up, threw away the bottle, and got another beer from the refrigerator. Fraser cleared the table, stacking the bowls in the sink. He ran the water and added detergent. "You don't have to do that, Fraser. I'll do it later." 

"Relax, Ray. You're tired." 

"Yeah, I am. Thanks." 

As Fraser washed, dried, and put away the dishes, Ray sat back and closed his eyes. How could such a great day turn to shit so damn fast? He didn't want to think about Stella fucking Anderson. He'd moved on. He had Fraser now. Life was good. But the ache in his heart told him that despite his best effort, he still carried a lot of heavy duty feelings for his ex-wife. He didn't want to, but like everything else in his life, he had a hard time switching on and off when it came to feelings. 

Fraser settled on the sofa beside him. "Ray." 

"Yeah?" 

"Would it help to talk about it?" 

"Already did." 

"No, I mean, the rest of it. It's obvious you're still upset about seeing Detective Anderson." 

"It's not about Anderson." 

"Ah." 

Ray opened his eyes and turned his head. "Ah what?" 

"Then it's about Stella." 

Shrugging, Ray cradled the bottle of beer in both hands and held it down in his lap. "Well, yeah. I don't like to think about it, but it's hard to get out of my head once it starts. I get kind of obsessive." 

"I understand completely." 

"Yeah?" 

"Oh, yes. I've done the same thing on different occasions." 

Ray lifted his head and studied his partner. "We're talking about Victoria, right?" 

"Yes, and when I was younger I was involved with my best friend Innusiq." 

"And, what, he didn't love you back?" 

"Oh, yes, he loved me, but not the way I needed him to, not with the kind of commitment I wanted in the relationship." 

"What happened?" 

"He married a girl from his village, Hannah. They have four children and the last letter said they would soon be grandparents." 

Ray sighed and then leaned forward. He took a long drink and then put the bottle on the table before settling back against Fraser. His partner draped an arm around his shoulder, the hug natural, like they'd always done it. "How did that make you feel, hearing about all that happily ever after stuff?" 

"When I was younger, it bothered me a great deal, but in retrospect, it was the best choice. Likely, it wouldn't have worked out between us. Still, it gives me a slight pang when I hear that he's happy. I wish him well, but I'm ashamed to say there have been times in my life when I wanted things to be different." 

"Yeah, I get that. It's hard to know that he's happy without you." 

"But I am glad. He was a good friend and he deserved happiness even if I couldn't give him that." 

"And Victoria?" 

"I have no earthly idea what I was thinking when it came to my relationship with Victoria. However, I do know that after I was shot, I, too, suffered from being obsessed with morbid thoughts." 

"Like I am with Stella." 

"Perhaps." 

"I still love her, always will." 

"I know." 

"Does that bother you?" 

Fraser didn't answer right away, but when he did, he spoke softly. "It actually makes me love you even more." 

"Yeah? Why's that?" 

"It shows the depth of your devotion. You don't love casually. I respect that as much as I love you." 

The words touched him, made his chest tight and his face warm. "I love you, too." 

Ray turned and lifted his face for the brief kiss. "It's late, Ray. We should go to bed." 

Dropping his face against Fraser's chest, Ray took a deep breath in regret. "I can't. I need to go over those files again. There's something wrong with this whole business." 

"You mean besides the monstrous death of a young woman?" 

"Besides that, yeah." Ray sat up and then picked up the beer again. He finished it off and then walked to the kitchen to throw away the bottle. Coming back to the sofa carrying a thick file, he settled back against Fraser. He opened the folder and pulled out a long list. "This summarizes all the times Ross has been brought in for questioning, details all the times we think he's been involved with some kind of violence." 

Fraser took the list and scanned over it. Ray waited and got what he expected. "You're right. Something's very wrong here." 

"You see it, you see the problem?" 

"Oh, yes. Ross is no doubt unsavory in his business dealings, and I suspect has resorted to some forms of violence to get people to pay off their debts. However, there's nothing here to indicate the same level of violence against Bradford or Forster, especially Forster." 

"I don't think he did it." 

"He could have had it done." 

"Yeah, he could've, but it's not his style. A guy doesn't pay up, he might get his legs busted, his arm in a sling, but he doesn't get dead, not with Ross. And this thing with Forster comes from out of left field." 

"Left field?" 

"I mean, out of nowhere. I don't think he'd do it or even order someone else to do it. Not one of the Ross cases has a woman involved. He doesn't do violence against women. He's married and got 4 kids, all girls. He might be a scumbag, but he's got limits." 

"Are you thinking one of his henchmen has escalated the violence in order to protect Ross?" 

"It's possible. I'm thinking Santos." 

"Why Santos?" 

"Santos is married to Bradford's daughter. Maybe she told Bradford some of the stuff that was going on or maybe Bradford found something out on his own. I don't know. But it goes back to him. His file is nothing like Ross's." 

"In what way?" 

"He spent time in prison for nearly killing his ex-wife." 

Fraser put the list back in the file, his expression grim. "What do you plan to do?" 

"I guess I should go talk to Bradford's daughter first. She might love Santos, but if he had her old man killed, she might be inclined to turn him in." 

"It's possible." 

"But you don't think so." 

"It's hard to say. I've never met Bradford's daughter, but it has been my experience that some women are far more loyal to a husband rather than the father, especially if the father is dead and can no longer protect her. In addition, she could very well be the one who told her husband about her father's research." 

"You think?" Ray rubbed his chin, thinking through all the scenarios running through his head. "Yeah, that's possible. She was upset about her dad being beaten up when I saw her at the hospital, but that doesn't mean she'll turn on Santos especially when she knows what he's capable of. Damn, what a mess." 

"A mess better left until tomorrow. We both need to get up early, so we should go to bed and get some rest." 

Ray ran a nervous hand through his hair. "That sounds good, Frase, but I'm too wound up." 

"I've got a technique to help relieve some of that tension, Ray." 

The husky tone caught Ray's attention. He smiled and turned his head, catching the hungry look. "Yeah? Is this some kind of special Mountie technique?" 

A hand hooked the back of Ray's neck, drawing him closer, Fraser's lips just a breath away. "Come to bed, Ray, and I'll demonstrate." 

Ray melted into the kiss and followed Fraser to bed, any protest, any resistance gone, poof, nada, his cock getting happy in a whole new way. 

* * *

Waking to the smell of fresh coffee along with bacon and eggs, Ray rolled over and groaned into a pillow. As much as he enjoyed coffee, even a whiff of food in the morning made him nauseous. He licked his dry lips and opened his eyes, realizing for the first time that Fraser was gone. Getting up, he pulled on his briefs and jeans before walking into the living room. "What's going on?" 

Dressed in his uniform, Fraser turned. "Good morning, Ray." 

Ray scratched his bare chest, his eyes still a little blurry. "What is all this?" 

"What?" 

Pointing at the table settings and the fresh biscuits, Ray grumbled, "This, Fraser, this. What is all this?" 

Ignoring the grumpy attitude, Fraser didn't lose his smile. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Ray." 

"How long have you known me, Fraser? Do I ever eat breakfast?" 

"Well, not normally, but I thought you might enjoy a change." 

"A change?" 

"Yes, a change. The food's ready. All you need to do is sit and enjoy it. Coffee?" 

"Yeah, coffee. I could do coffee." Ray settled in a chair, his face in his hands, not quite awake yet. "When did you get all this stuff?" 

"I went out with Diefenbaker this morning and took the liberty of replenishing some of your food stores. I don't mean this as a criticism, Ray, but you really don't have much in the way of actual food in your apartment." 

"I eat out a lot." 

Fraser put the coffee in front of Ray and then proceeded to serve them both scrambled eggs and bacon. Then Fraser sat down with his tea and began eating. Sipping his coffee, Ray watched with amusement at his partner's hearty appetite. Fraser stopped and eyed Ray. "You're not eating." 

"I don't eat breakfast, Fraser, but thanks anyway." 

"But, Ray..." 

"Forget about it. My mum tried for years. It's just this weird thing I've got. If I eat when I first get up, I get sick to my stomach. I'll grab something on the way in." 

"I'm sorry, Ray. You never told me that." 

"Never had a reason to." Ray reached over and took Fraser's hand and squeezed it, couldn't get enough of the new touching thing. "I appreciate you taking time to do this, though. It's nice, kind of sentimental, but I like it." 

Relaxing, Fraser nodded his grateful acceptance of the words. Then he sat back and frowned. "Promise me you'll eat something later. I do worry about you, Ray. Your nutritional habits are appalling." 

"Promise, and you're right, they are. Hard to break, too." 

Fraser got up and cleared the table, putting Ray's food in a bowl for Diefenbaker. The wolf yipped in appreciation. "Ray." 

"Yeah?" 

"Last night, well, that is to say..." 

"I know, Fraser, me, too. It was great." Ray leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "I was kind of wondering if maybe..." 

"Maybe what?" 

"Maybe you might want to do that again sometime, like tonight maybe." 

Fraser smiled, obviously pleased by the offer. "Tonight would be fine, Ray." 

"And what about tomorrow night and the night after?" 

Stepping back to the table, Fraser sat beside him. "What are you saying exactly?" 

"I'd like it if you stayed here." Ray took Fraser's hand between both of his own. "Look, I know it might be tricky. We haven't talked about how we want to play this and living together might give it away, but I have to tell you, I want to be together. I don't want to sleep alone anymore, not now that I know you love me, too." 

Fraser squeezed his hand, his tongue darting out, the conflict playing out just behind his eyes. Ray could actually see him making his final decision all in a matter of seconds. "Yes, Ray, I'd like that." 

"You'll move in?" 

"If you'll have me, yes." 

Ray leaned in and sealed the bargain with a kiss. As he pulled away, Fraser captured his neck and kept him close. "Ray, I wouldn't mind if you called me Ben." 

"Ben?" 

"Yes." 

"Ben it is, then." Ray kissed him again, pulled back, and smiled as he took time to say the name with feeling. "Ben. Yeah, it suits you." 

"However, I'll still be Fraser during our working hours." 

Ray grinned at the serious tone, the dutiful Mountie voice he'd grown so fond of as they worked together day in and day out. "You'll always be Fraser on the job, Ben. No way around it." 

Fraser kissed him and then stood up. "I should finish the dishes." 

"And I need to shower and get dressed." 

"And I'll make the bed." 

Ray chuckled. "Why bother? It's going to get messed up again as soon as we get back home later." 

Fraser blushed. "Now, Ray..." 

Ray held up a hand. For the first time he looked around and indicated the apartment, all straightened up and polished. "I know, I know. You like things neat and tidy." 

"I do like order." 

"A little dust never hurt anybody, Ben." 

"A clean home makes for a clean mind." 

Ray snorted, stepped up to Fraser, and then shook his head. He wrapped his arms around his partner's waist and drew him closer. He nuzzled his neck and moaned, delighted at the quickened breathing and the reciprocal embrace. "Don't believe it, Ben." 

"Believe what?" 

"That whole clean home, clean mind bit. I like your mind just fine. You forget about last night? You forget about what we did?" 

Fraser licked his ear and whispered, "Not likely, Ray." 

"Good, keep remembering it. Clean house, dirty house, I don't care much. Do what you want. Just keep thinking like you did last night, and I'll be a happy little flatfoot." 

"I'll do my best, Ray." Ben lifted Ray's face with both his hands and then kissed him, his tongue taking the long way around to see you later and thank you kindly. 

* * *

Six inches of new snow made driving a bit iffy. Ray took a side trip to his friend's garage to put on those snow tires like he promised. 

Standing in the office, watching the guys switching his tires, he waited for his friend Larry to stop talking about old times long enough to take a deep breath. "Hey, you ever see your cousin Kevin?" 

Larry tilted his head and then leaned back against the wall. "Why? You switch teams and want me to hook you up?" 

Ray didn't bother acting offended, but smiled wider instead. "I've got this friend who might be interested." 

Broad-shouldered and blond, Larry nodded, happy with the offer. "Yeah, I see Kev all the time. He comes over to baby sit Angie and Becky when me and Sheila want to go out. You serious about hooking him up with somebody?" 

"Yeah. He's a Mountie." 

"Your buddy Fraser?" 

"No, not Fraser. There's this guy he works with, a guy named Turnbull." 

"Turnbull? What the fuck kind of name is Turnbull?" 

"You disrespecting names with a handle like Warshalski?" 

"Good point." 

"Besides he's Canadian." Ray said it as if that explained everything odd about Turnbull and the world in general. "He's not bad looking and he's into tall, skinny blonds with attitude, so I figured I might play matchmaker." 

"He hit on you, right?" 

"Something like that." 

Larry chuckled and stepped over to sit at his desk. He leaned back, studying Ray and nodding his approval. "You know, I never figured you for being so open-minded." 

"Why's that?" 

"Well, what with Stella and all." 

Suddenly serious, Ray shook his head, baffled. "I don't get it. What's Stella got to do with anything?" 

"No offense, Ray, but she was kind of snooty." 

Ray couldn't argue with that, but he pressed the issue. "She might have been snooty, but she was never a bigot." 

"Unless you didn't have money." 

"Come on, Larry. Be fair. She put up with me." 

"For a while, yeah, and then she moved on. Her loss, your gain in my opinion." 

"You never liked Stella." 

"I always thought you could do better. Her Gold Coast high and mighty attitude got on my nerves and don't get Sheila started or you'll have battered eardrums." Larry waved a hand in dismissal before Ray could defend her, not that he wanted to waste breath on Stella, not anymore. "Anyway, it don't matter. As far as I know, Kev's not seeing anybody regular. He's always bitching about how all the good ones are straight or married." 

"Funny guy." 

"A real riot. So, this Turnbull, is he okay? I mean, Kev's hooked up with enough losers. Don't even get me started on that last one, Craig somebody." 

"Hey, he's Canadian. If nothing else, Kevin will get to know all about curling and chasing woodchucks." 

"Something everybody ought to know, right?" 

"Right." 

"Okay, give me the guy's number. I'll pass it on. If he's interested, I'll tell Kev to call." 

"Sure, that'll work." Ray scribbled the number of the Consulate down on a piece of paper and handed it over. "You think I should tell Turnbull to expect a call?" 

"Probably about five minutes after I give Kev the number." 

"Eager much?" 

Larry laughed, stood up, and slapped Ray on the back with amusement. "I think your car's ready." 

"Thanks. Appreciate it. How much do I owe you?" 

"Forget about it. It's on the house." 

"Come on, Larry, you don't have to do that." 

"Hey, if this thing between your friend Turnbull and my cousin works out, I'll give you free service for as long as you need it." 

"Why's that?" 

"You have any idea how hard it is for a gay guy to meet somebody nice? Hell, it ain't easy." 

"It's not easy for anybody." 

"Yeah, I know. I got lucky with Sheila." 

"Yeah, you did." Ray shook his friend's hand and headed for his car, talking over his shoulder. "Thanks." 

"Take it easy out there, Ray. It's treacherous." 

Starting the engine, Ray didn't worry half as much about the roads as the criminal world, a world he had to work in without Fraser for the rest of the week. Having nobody to cover his back made him uneasy, his cop senses acting up like crazy ever since he got the Ross case. He'd just have to be extra careful now that he had Fraser to go home to, Fraser who made him tingle in just the right way all over. 

* * *

"No computer?" 

Anderson shook his head. "No computer. We checked out her apartment, her school office, and a storage locker in her building. We even asked her parents if she'd left one over there. No dice." 

"Look, Anderson, she's a grad student working on a dissertation and assisting a professor. She's got to have a computer somewhere." 

"You find a computer for Bradford?" 

Ray sat back and sighed in frustration. "No. No computer there, either." 

"Looks to me like someone's been a step ahead all the way." 

"Yeah, looks that way to me, too." Ray motioned to the seat by his desk and then rubbed his temples. "Sit down. You're giving me a headache just standing there." 

Anderson hesitated, but then sat down, putting the files on Ray's desk. Bloodshot eyes stared at Ray. "This feels weird." 

"What? Working together or just breathing the same air?" 

"Both." 

Ray shut his eyes momentarily, bracing himself for his speech. "We don't talk about it, don't even mention it. We're on a case together, that's it. Can you do that? 'Cause if you can't, I need to know and you can bail right now. I'll ask the Lieutenant to call and see what he can do to get someone else on the case." 

"No, I'm fine with it. I just don't want it to be bad for you. I did enough damage." 

The last words startled him and Ray brought his head up. "You admit that?" 

"Yeah. I was wrong. I wanted to tell you that before, but you never gave me the chance. I understand that. You were hurt. Who wouldn't be? I deserved worse than a broken nose. That's why I never pressed charges." 

"I wondered about that." 

"If it'd been me, I might have used a bullet instead of a fist." 

"I thought about it." 

"Yeah, I figured. Glad you didn't." 

More than a little rattled by the turnaround from Anderson, Ray tried to get back on track. "Okay, okay, right. Enough said. No more Stella. I just want to get the case done." 

"Same here." 

"Good, we're on the same wavelength." Ray took another look at Anderson and frowned. "You get any sleep at all last night?" 

"No. I had to contact her parents and I wanted to follow up on the search for the computer. Then the reports came back on the body. I thought you'd need them first thing." 

"Yeah, I do, but you won't do me a lot of good if you fall over. Go home and get a few hours shuteye." 

"What are you going to do?" 

"I've got a squad car bringing in Dusty Durbin. We've got him linked to the Bradford assault, fingerprints on a bat in a dumpster in the alley." 

"Durbin's muscle for Ross, but he'll never turn against him." 

"I'll make a run at him anyway. Then I'm going to see Bradford's daughter. Depending on what she says, I'll either go see Ross or Santos at Barney's." 

"Not alone you're not." 

Ray bristled at the tone. "You're not my partner or my lieutenant." 

"We're working the case together. I don't mind you interviewing Durbin without me, or even the daughter, but I want to be with you when you see either Ross or Santos." 

"You've got nothing to tie either of them to Forster." 

"Forster links to your case, our case. Besides, you know procedure. You don't go into a lion's den like Barney's without backup. From what I hear your usual backup's benched for the week, so I'm it." 

Anderson made good sense, but that didn't mean Ray had to like it and he didn't, not a bit. "Who told you Fraser was out for the week?" 

"Your sister Frannie." 

"She's got a big mouth." 

Anderson smiled and made a double cupping motion in front of his own chest to indicate breasts. "That's not all she's got. She' got a nice pair of..." 

"Shut up, Anderson. That's my sister." 

"I'm just saying..." 

"Too much, like always. Now don't talk about Frannie." 

"It's not like she's your real sister." 

The Anderson he knew was back in all his ape-like glory. Ray stood up, his temper boiling as he leaned in, his words tight. "For all intents and purposes, she's my sister, and you will leave her the fuck alone. She's off limits. Got it?" 

"Jeez, yeah, I got it. What's with you?" 

"What's with me? What's with me? I'll tell you what the fuck's with me. You." 

"Me?" 

"Yeah, you might be a great cop, but I don't trust you, will never trust you no matter how many times you say you're sorry. Now, get the fuck out of here. Go home and sack out. Come back this afternoon. We'll work the case, but keep your mouth shut and your fucking hands off Frannie." 

Anderson stood up and shook his head. "You're nuts, you know that? They should've canned your ass three years ago before you hurt somebody." 

"The only person looking to get hurt here is you if you keep running your mouth. Now get the fuck out of my sight." 

As Anderson left, Ray slowly noted the quiet all around him, the uneasy stares aimed in his direction. Welsh stood in his doorway, but didn't say anything right away. Then he called out, "Let's get back to work, people. Shows over. Vecchio, my office if you please." 

Ray muttered under his breath. "Shit." 

Frannie stepped into his path as he headed to see Welsh. "Ray, are you okay?" 

"I'm fine, Frannie. Didn't mean to make a scene." 

"Why should today be any different?" Big brown eyes met his as she squeezed his arm with affection and concern. "Anderson's a pig, Ray. I know all about him. You don't need to worry about me and him, but thanks anyway, Bro." 

"No problem." 

She motioned her head toward the inner office. "Step easy. What with the snow and this thing with Ross, he's been a bear all morning." 

"Thanks. I will." 

Ray watched her walk away and once again regretted that she wasn't his real sister by blood. Frannie pissed him off sometimes, but she was good people. 

As he walked into the office, Welsh motioned to the door. "Shut it." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Sit down." 

"I'd rather stand." 

"Sit down, Detective. That's not a request." 

Ray sat down, his arms crossed again, his head about to explode. "I didn't mean to go off like that, sir. I know it's unprofessional. I'm sorry." 

"You're forgetting I know the history here, Kowalski." 

The use of his real name brought his head up. "Sir?" 

"I know about Anderson and your ex-wife." Ray gulped and shrugged, not wanting to risk his own voice. Welsh didn't wait for him to talk, just kept going. "If it were up to me, you two would never be on this case together, but it's not." 

The words came out before Ray could catch them. "Then take me off the Ross case." 

"Can't do that. You're the best man and you've already been on this thing too long. It'd raise too many questions, questions you do not want to have to answer. What I need from you is a promise to keep it professional. What you do off the job, that's up to you." 

Swallowing down bile, Ray nodded. "I'll do my best, sir." 

"Do more than that. Promise me there will be no more blow ups on the job." When Ray didn't answer right away, Welsh prompted. "I need to hear the words, Detective." 

Ray closed his eyes briefly, knew he owed Welsh that much, owed himself that much. "I promise." 

"Good. Now, they informed me just before your little circus act that they've got Durbin in interrogation room three. I thought you might like to take a crack at him." 

Ray stood up and stepped to the door. "And, Ray?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"When I said take a crack at Durbin, I did not mean that literally. Do I make myself clear?" 

"Clear as a bell, sir." 

"Dismissed." 

Ray walked out, avoiding the covert stares, the nervous snickers. He didn't give a fuck what they thought. A hair trigger temper didn't make him nuts, not really. Attitude like a razor, that's what it took to go after scumbags like Ross and Santos. He needed it, wouldn't give up his edge. He just didn't want to cut his own throat if he could help it. 

* * *

Durbin sat at the table, nervous, twitching as he crossed and uncrossed his arms waiting for Ray to strike. Ray took his own time, looking over the file, pacing the room, making the guy sweat. After another few minutes, Durbin swallowed hard and spoke, his words way too fast. "You got nothing on me." 

Ray lifted his head and smiled. "We've got a bat at the scene that has your fingerprints on it." 

"Can't be." 

"Oh, yeah, Dusty my man, that's what we've got." 

Durbin shook his head vigorously, his eyes narrowed and worried. "I'm telling you, that can't be. I didn't even use a bat." Ray laughed out loud as the asshole realized what he said. "That's not what I meant. I just meant..." 

"Shut up, Durbin. We've got you signed, sealed, delivered. You, you've got two priors. You'll do the max. Hell, the DA might even go for the needle. Who knows? Election years are tough and the war against crime's always a good show." 

Durbin ran a hand through his dirty brown hair and shook his head again. "I'm telling you, I'm being framed here. Sure, I was there, I'll admit that, but I didn't whack the guy that hard." 

"You hit him in the head. Not everybody has a thick skull like a knucklehead like you." 

"But I didn't hit him in the head. I swear." Durbin sat back, extending his hands out, palms up. "Come on, man, I'm a pro. I don't hit guys in the head. Fuckers can't pay a guy back if they're dead." 

"A guy being Jimmy Ross." 

"I ain't saying." 

"You better be saying something." 

"I can't. You know that." 

"I know you'd better be telling me a story about what really went down or you could be a dead man anyway." 

"A story? You want a story?" 

Ray grinned and sat down across from Durbin, his energy high, knowing he had the guy by the balls. "You either put somebody else in the alley or you take the fall alone." 

Durbin closed his eyes and shook his head. "You don't even care if he kills me." 

"Give me a reason to care." 

Opening his eyes, Durbin nodded and leaned in, his voice a whisper. "Okay, okay, here's the story. There's this guy, a guy who wants to be king. He's the right hand man and he's doing all this dancing behind the throne." 

Ray frowned. This wasn't the story he expected. "Go on." 

"Anyway, the real king, he don't know what's going on 'cause this other guy, the guy who wants to take over, he's doing stuff behind the king's back." 

"What things?" 

"Skimming off the top, doing deals, and getting rid of trouble." 

"Getting rid of trouble. What's that mean?" 

"This guy who got killed, the mark, he owed the king money, but the king, he don't want the guy capped. He just wants him roughed up a little bit, just to scare him so he'll pay off, just like always. But, come to find out, this mark is different. He's the son-in-law of the second guy. So, anyway, this father-in-law is some kind of writer and he's been collecting dirt on the king and his right hand man and writing some kind of book. Right hand man, he don't like that, father-in-law or no father-in-law, you know?" 

Ray ventured into the story. "So, right hand man, the guy who wants to be king, he killed his father-in-law?" 

"He was there. When I left, he was in the alley with the old man. Said he needed to straighten things out, that the king don't got to know about the book. So, I say, okay, no problem. He won't hear about it from me, because between you and me, the king ain't as tough as he used to be, and the right hand man, well, he'll slit your throat without thinking twice. You hear what I'm saying here? He must have been the one who planted the bat, because I wore gloves and I never hit the guy in the head or even that hard. I just wanted to scare him into paying up." 

Ray pursed his lips, putting both his hands flat down on the table. "Santos killed Bradford because of the book and wants to take over Ross's business." 

Durbin sat back, arms crossed. "You didn't hear it from me, but that's a good story. Sounds right." 

That cleared things up a little, but not completely. "Did Ross tell you why Bradford borrowed money and hadn't paid?" 

Sticking to the story notion, Durbin shook his head. "The king don't tell stuff like that. Right hand man said it was to get evidence of what the king and him did for a living. The right hand man, he don't like his father-in-law much, but he don't want his old lady to find out what's going on." 

"Santos's wife doesn't know he works for Ross?" 

"Oh, she knows. She's no angel. She and Ross are pretty tight, if you get my meaning. Anyway, the way I heard it, she's the one who told her husband about the book." 

"You know anything about a woman named Alexandra Forster?" 

"Who?" 

"A young woman who was tortured, raped, and murdered last night. She was Bradford's assistant at school. We think she helped him write the book." 

Durbin paled. "No, I don't know nothin' about her." 

"You think Santos could do something like that, hurt a woman like that?" 

Durbin didn't hesitate. "In a heartbeat. He don't like women that much. Roughs girls up for fun." 

"He rough up his current wife?" 

"Yeah, sometimes. She's scared of him. Hell, I'm scared of him." Durbin's voice choked. "Look, I didn't kill the guy. What can you do to get me out of this mess?" 

Ray stood up, his mind racing, heading straight to Santos. "You willing to testify against Santos if we get him off the streets?" 

"I can't. He'll kill me." 

"Then there's not much I can do." 

As Ray touched the door, Durbin called out, "Wait. What if you tell the king instead?" 

"Tell Ross what Santos is up to?" 

"Yeah, tell him what I said and how Santos framed me. Ross won't like having this brought to his house. He likes things clean, no loose ends. And if Santos killed the woman, well, Ross will go ape shit. He's warned the guy enough times to quit hitting the ladies." 

"You don't think Ross will get a little pissed about you ratting out Santos?" 

"You don't have to tell him you got this from me. Just tell him that reliable source thing." 

"And you don't think Ross will figure it out?" 

"Hey, I'll take my chances with Ross any day over Santos. That guy's psycho with a capital P, you know what I'm saying?" 

Nodding, Ray tapped the edge of the file into his palm. "I'll see what I can do. Right now you're going to be arraigned on first degree murder charges, but if this stuff about Santos pans out, I'll see what I can do." 

"Thanks. I'm a lowlife, I know that, but I don't kill people and especially don't hurt women. Ross has a rule, no hitting on women. He hears that about the girl, and he'll stop Santos himself." 

"You talking a little street justice?" 

"I'm talking the way it is. Might as well use it." 

Ray didn't argue as he walked out of the room. He had a game plan. He just had to call Anderson, leave a message, and then they might finish this whole business by nightfall. 

* * *

"You've got balls, Vecchio, I'll give you that." Ray stood in front of the table where Ross sat and took in the tough guy's looks, dark hair, dark eyes, in his mid-fifties. Ross carried pure muscle on a broad frame and his square jaw and unmarked, tanned skin made him almost handsome in a thuggish sort of way. "Have a seat. You said you needed to talk, so talk." 

Ray kept his black leather jacket on and settled at the table at the back of Barney's Bar. He put a couple of files in front of Ross. "You ever hear of a guy named Phil Bradford or a woman named Alexandra Forster?" 

"Bradford, yeah, I heard of him." 

"And Forster?" 

"No, never heard of her." Ross's eyes narrowed. "What's this about, Detective?" 

"Bradford and Forster are both dead." 

"I heard about Bradford. Juanita, she's Rico's wife, he was her old man. She's torn up about it." 

"Juanita? I thought her name was Jane." 

"That's Jane in Spanish." 

Ray nodded and pushed the files across the table. "Let me tell you a story I heard." 

"A story? What? You think this is kiddy corner or something?" 

"No, I think you've got a snake at your back and you need to shut up and listen." 

Ross sat up straighter, his jaw clenched. "You telling me to shut up?" 

"I'm saying if you're as smart as I think you are, you'll hear what I've got to say." 

Not happy, Ross sat back, his lips thinned. "You got five minutes and then you're gone and I'm only doing this because you're a cop." 

"Open the folders." 

Ross opened Bradford's file first. He glanced through the pictures, unmoved by their graphic nature. Then opened Forster's file. He stilled, his face paler. Ray saw the gag reflex as Ross held a fist to his mouth. He shut the folder in a hurry and shoved them back at Ray. "What the fuck is this?" 

"Here's the way I heard it. Your man Santos married Bradford's daughter against his wishes. To save his daughter, Bradford decided to write a book about you and Santos. He started collecting information and Forster helped him because she was his grad assistant, no other reason, no personal agenda. Bradford borrowed money from you to get a first hand account of what happens when a guy can't pay the vig much less the loan. Problem is, his daughter Jane aka Juanita found out about the book, told her husband, and he killed Bradford and framed your man Durbin by leaving a bat with his fingerprints in a dumpster nearby." 

Ray reached over and tapped the Forster file. "Then Santos decided that wasn't enough. He needed to be sure he got all the files and he went after a young woman." Leaning in, his voice harsh, Ray fisted his hands to keep from shaking. "He didn't just killer her, Ross. He raped and tortured her, took his time, enjoyed the fuck out of it. Then the sick fuck hung her upside down while he cut her open and slit her throat." 

Ross didn't say a word for a full minute while Ray sat back and waited. Finally, Ross spoke softly. "You got proof?" 

"If I had proof enough to arrest the son of a bitch, I wouldn't be here. I'll get it though. DNA comes back on Forster, you can bet your ass it'll match Santos. I just thought I should let you know what kind of man you've got running most of your business." 

"You done?" 

Shaking his head, Ray stood up. "Look, we both know you're a criminal, but you're smart and you don't pull this kind of shit. You've got limits. You know where to draw the line. This guy Santos, well, you saw the pictures. What kind of animal does that kind of shit?" 

"You need to leave now." 

"And you need to take a look around. Check the accounts, talk to your people. Santos is trying to take over." 

Ross's overall expression didn't change, but his eyes darkened with anger. After a few moments, he stood up. "I'll do what I can to help with the investigation." 

"How?" 

"I'll talk to Santos. If he's done this, if he killed that woman, then I'll find out." 

"And then what? You'll whack him?" Ray stepped closer. "Turn him in, Ross. I'll put his ass away, I promise." 

"Go back to the station, Detective. Wait for a call." 

"A call?" 

"Yes." Ross stepped to the door, but didn't open it right away. Instead he turned and spoke quietly, tensely. "Watch your back, Detective. Santos isn't without his own sources of information. If he thinks you're a danger, he might react and do something stupid before I reach him." 

"More stupid than killing a defenseless woman?" 

"Stupid enough to get you killed as well. He won't care that you're a cop." 

Ray didn't expect the warning, but took it seriously. Even Ross knew Santos was crazy. Damn, that wasn't good, not good at all. "Nice guy." 

"He had his uses. We're finished for now, Detective." Ross opened the door and spoke to a man just outside the office. "Jake, take Detective Vecchio to his car. Stay with him until he leaves. Then tell Santos I want to see him right away." 

"Yes, sir." 

Ray got his folders and headed out behind Jake into the parking lot. He unlocked the door and put the files inside. Standing up straight before climbing into the driver's seat, he dismissed the man. "Thanks for the escort." 

"No problem." 

As the Jake turned to leave, Ray heard the sound crunching gravel behind him followed by a solid arm around his neck. A stinky cloth covered his mouth, smothered him, brought him to his knees. He had no time at all to call for help and just enough time to worry about never seeing Ben again. 

* * *

Time always passed at the same rate, but Fraser knew from experience that the perception of that passing varied greatly. He glanced up at the clock one more time and then sat back with frustration. The minutes limped along like an injured caribou on the tundra. He missed Ray, missed his touch, his voice, being with him on the job and being with him alone. He missed Ray. Period. 

"Moping doesn't become you, Son. You're a Mountie. Buck up." 

Fraser lifted his head to eye the spirit of his father standing near the doorway. "I'm not moping. I'm bored." 

"A desk job doesn't suit you, that's true. However, you can't deny you were thinking about the Yank just then. You've always been too melancholy by nature." 

Annoyed at the intrusion and what he imagined to be yet another dig at his character, Fraser snapped. "What do you want, Dad?" 

Face serious, Fraser Senior stepped closer to the desk. "Can't a father just stop by?" 

"Not when he's dead, no. Now, again, what do you want?" 

"Your partner's in trouble. I thought you should know." 

The hair on the back of his neck stood up. "Ray's in trouble? What kind of trouble?" 

Robert Fraser held two fingers to his right temple, his eyes closed as he concentrated. "He's hurt. Somewhere near water." He opened his eyes. "I can't do more, but I'd hurry if I were you, Son. There's not much time. The man who has him, well, there's not much time." 

Fraser stood up, moved closer. "I need to know where he is." 

"Near water. That's all I can say." 

Before Fraser could ask anything else, his father disappeared and the phone rang. Lieutenant Welsh's voice barked in his ear. "Please, tell me Vecchio's at the Consulate, Constable. Tell me that." 

"I can't tell you that, sir." 

"Damn. I swear, I should suspend his sorry ass when I find him." 

Fraser held his fear in check, tried to remain calm. It'd do Ray no good for him to be too distressed to think straight. "What's going on, Lieutenant?" 

"He took off without backup and didn't radio or call in. We got a tip he might have been snatched. I was hoping it was a hoax call. You need to get over here." 

"Right you are, sir. I'll be there as quickly as possible." 

Welsh clicked off and Fraser hung up. He grabbed his coat and stepped out into the hall, Diefenbaker following close by. "Turnbull. There's an emergency at the police station." 

Turnbull stood, taking in Fraser's worried expression. "Is it Ray, sir?" 

"I'm afraid so. He's missing." 

A hand covered Turnbull's mouth. "Dear Lord. Is there anything I can do?" 

"Man the phones and take over in my absence. If Ray should call, let me know immediately." 

"Absolutely, sir, and good luck. I'm sure he'll be fine." 

Fraser didn't bother to answer, didn't take the time. He could only think of one thing, finding Ray and making sure that he was safe. 

* * *

Too dizzy to stand, Ray sagged against the rough ropes holding his bruised and naked body against the wall. Fuck Santos and his fists, his filthy mouth, and the drugs he pumped into Ray's body to keep him from fighting back. Fuck. The guy never let up. Another slap rocked Ray's head back against the concrete. "Where's the computer?" 

Lips almost too swollen to manage, Ray had to work hard to talk. "Fuck off." 

Another blow slammed into his gut. Ray retched, but nothing came up anymore. "I know the girl had a copy of the book on a laptop. She said so. She said she sent it to you cops. I want it." 

Right eye swollen shut and the left puffing up, Ray struggled to see the man before him. Shorter than Ray, but all muscle, the guy didn't pull any punches. The wild eyes scared Ray more than the beating. He'd seen eyes like that before, the eyes of a killer, a man who tortured and raped and enjoyed it, got off on it. Ray shuddered involuntarily, knowing those eyes danced with a hungry light, a light that needed feeding. He sure as hell didn't want to be the main course. 

Santos demanded information and figured a good beating would be enough. He figured wrong. Ray shook his head, trying desperately to remain conscious, to get a plan to keep himself alive long enough for somebody to find him. "Look, if she sent it to us, I didn't get it. Maybe she mailed it. Maybe it's at the station by now." 

Nursing his right fist, Santos paced the warehouse floor. He licked Ray's blood off thoughtfully before he asked, "Mailed it?" 

"Yeah, if she did, I could get it for you." 

"You think I'm stupid?" 

Ray didn't want to say what he really thought, that Santos was a cold-blooded killer who needed a bullet to the head. "Listen, listen, the girl knew I was the guy on the case. I'm the one she would've mailed it to. Nobody else. I can get it to you, but you have to let me go." 

Santos stepped up closer, his grey sweatshirt covered with Ray's blood. "You think you're smart, trying to play me." Santos tapped the side of his head. "People like you and Ross, you think I'm just a dumb Spick, but I got news for you. I'm going to be running this city before long." 

"Not if you kill a cop. You kill a cop and they'll hunt you down. They won't ever let up. They'll hound you and then they'll give you the needle. You can't kill a cop and get away with it, not in Chicago." 

Santos leaned in, his hot breath a blast against Ray's cold skin. "You think so?" 

"I know so." 

"Wrong. They're never going to know. Nobody's ever going to find the body." 

Ray swallowed hard at that one, closed his eyes, his head spinning. Santos lifted his chin and slapped him. "Look at me." 

Obeying took effort, Ray's vision going in and out of focus. "You're not bad looking for a pig." A dirty finger ran along Ray's jaw. "I like blonds." 

Ray pushed away the revulsion of the touch and met brown eyes with a newfound defiance. "Like Forster?" 

"Yeah. The chick didn't last long, you know?" Santos edged in closer, keeping his eyes lined up with Ray's as he slipped a hand down and grabbed his cock. "You, my friend, will last longer. You're strong. I like that." 

Ray hissed in pain. "Fucker." 

Santos laughed, squeezing Ray hard before releasing him and then stepping back "Not yet, but soon." Turning to leave, Santos walked to the door and then paused. "Of course, if you had the book, I might not resort to doing the same thing to you that I did to the girl before I dump your body in Lake Michigan. It's not much, but it's something." 

Ray wished like hell he had the fucking book so he could smack Santos in the head with it. Instead, he spit out blood and snapped, "Touch me and you're a dead man." 

"Tough words." 

"True words, asshole. I've got a partner who'll track you to the ends of the earth." 

"The Mountie?" 

"The Mountie." 

Santos laughed. 

Ray smiled despite the split lips and the pain. "You really are dumber than shit." 

Santos quit laughing, walked back over to Ray, and then kissed him, hard. Pulling back, Santos wiped his bloody mouth with the back of his hand. Then he cupped Ray's cheek and patted his face. "I'll be back." 

As soon as Santos left the room, Ray trembled and shook so hard, he bit his tongue to focus. Too cold to stand, Ray sank down, the ropes still keeping him from sitting. He couldn't stop shaking, the cold too intense, all the warmth leaching out of his body. He closed his eyes and prayed for Fraser to show up soon to save his ass and keep this nightmare shit from happening. Then he prayed even harder that if he did get raped and killed that Ben wouldn't find the body, wouldn't be the one to see the scene. He couldn't stand the thought of what that would do to his partner, because he damn well knew what it would do to him if he found Ben like that. Fuck, he'd go nuts, apeshit crazy thinking about that happening to Ben. 

Swallowing his own fear, Ray lifted his head upward and tried not to choke on the blood and tears. He pretended to be well and warm, to be wrapped in Ben's arms, kissed and loved, worshipped forever. He passed out thinking of Ben's lips, his smile, Ben's voice telling him he loved him more than life. 

* * *

Panic narrowed his focus as Fraser ran into the station, up the stairs, and down the long hallway. He ignored the hellos and the offers to chat. As he rushed past Huey and Dewey towards Welsh's office, he heard Anderson complaining. "Stupid son of a bitch. I told him not to go in there alone." 

Fraser stood in the doorway, his anger barely contained. "I assume you're talking about my partner." 

Startled, Anderson turned around. "Sorry. Didn't know you were there." 

Fraser didn't bother to press the point of Anderson calling his Ray a stupid son of a bitch. He stored that away for later, for when he could reasonably hold the man accountable for his unfortunate choice of words. "Lieutenant, what do we know?" 

Welsh stood up, motioning Fraser to move further into his office before closing the door. "We got a phone call three hours ago saying he'd gone missing." 

"Three hours ago? Might I ask why you delayed in calling me?" Anger iced his tone. He couldn't believe Welsh of all people wouldn't call him when it concerned Ray. 

"We weren't sure it was legit. I needed to talk to Anderson here. Find out what Vecchio planned to do." 

Fraser's frown deepened. "I don't understand. Why would Detective Anderson know about Ray's plans for this case?" 

"Because I'm supposed to be his partner." Anderson stood there looking pissed, his face red and his eyes bloodshot. "I was up all night working the Forster case. Since the Bradford and Forster cases are related, my boss told us to work together. I get here this morning and your partner acts like an ass." 

Welsh interrupted. "Shut up, Anderson. You got no room to talk on that score." 

"It wasn't my fault, Lieutenant. You were there. You saw how he was." 

Fraser touched his forehead, the pain pounding right behind his eyes. "You're saying you and Ray fought." 

"Yeah, you could say that. He's still pissed about what happened with me and Stella." 

The unsympathetic stares from both Fraser and Welsh spurred Anderson to move on. "Anyway, before the blow up, he told me to go home and get a few hours sleep. Said he was going to talk to Durbin and then to Bradford's daughter. Then he was _supposed_ to call and wait for me to follow up with a meeting with Ross. Turns out, after talking to Durbin, he didn't call and never showed up at the daughter's place. Ross says he didn't talk to him. Then we got this call out of nowhere, some woman's voice." 

Fraser shook his head, trying to clear it and to process the story. "Who's Durbin?" 

"Dusty Durbin. He's muscle for Ross. We've got his prints on a bat that killed Bradford." 

"He's in custody and Ray questioned him?" 

"Yeah." Anderson shook his head in anger and then crossed his arms. "I should've known better than trust him to work with me on this. The guy's a cowboy, a loose cannon. He shouldn't even be a cop." 

Before Fraser could even react, Welsh stepped into Anderson's space, his face only inches from his. "That's enough, not another word against him." He poked a warning finger in the middle of Anderson's chest and then gave him a steady glare. "Got it, Detective?" 

"Yes, sir." 

Welsh backed away and addressed both men. "Good, now what we need to do is find out if Ross is lying. I've got a bad feeling that Vecchio went to Ross without backup and got in over his head." 

Fraser stepped away and turned to stare out the window of the office, his hands clasped behind his back. He pushed away the anger and remembered Ross's file as he argued. "I don't think so. I don't think Ross is the one who has Ray." 

Welsh asked, "Why not?" 

"Because Ross is too smart to harm a police officer." 

Anderson disagreed. "He's a crook. There's always a first time. Maybe Ray said something to piss him off. Maybe he thinks Ray can connect him with the murders." 

"No. Ray showed me the Ross file last night. Certainly Jimmy Ross engages in illegal activities, but I think it's Rico Santos we need to find." 

Welsh's eyes narrowed. "Why's that, Constable?" 

"The level of violence of the Forster murder indicates a psychological profile more fitting to Santos than Ross. In addition, I think Mr. Ross is too intelligent to abduct a police officer or to seriously harm him in any way. I don't believe Santos would have any restraint in that regard." 

Anderson shook his head, his face puzzled as he looked over at Welsh. "He always talk like that?" 

"What, like he knows what he's talking about? Yeah, he does. And I think I agree." Welsh turned his attention to Fraser. "I put an APB out on Vecchio and his car. The car turned up down at the docks. No sign of Vecchio." 

Fear tightened around Fraser's heart, remembering his father's warning about water. "The docks, sir?" 

The Lieutenant's phone rang before he could answer. He snatched it up. "Yeah?" After a pause, Welsh's expression darkened as he glanced nervously over at Fraser and then back at his desk. "Right. Thanks. I'm on my way." 

"Sir?" 

Welsh cleared his throat as he came around and grabbed his coat. "We've got a dead body in a warehouse just a block from Ray's car. Patrol cars are on the way. Let's go." 

Fraser hesitated, his legs paralyzed momentarily, the thought that it could be Ray almost too much to take in, too much to ever believe. His voice shook. "Did they have a description?" 

"Not yet. You ride with me. Anderson, take your own car." 

"Yes, sir." 

Welsh touched Fraser's shoulder. "Let's go, Constable. If we're lucky, it won't be him." 

Ben didn't even remember walking to the car or strapping on his seatbelt. He barely recalled the drive, the scream of the siren, or Diefenbaker's soft woofs of support from the back seat. Once they arrived in front of the warehouse, he followed Welsh numbly. When they reached the body, he held his breath as the lieutenant lifted the sheet. He nearly fainted with relief when he realized the dead man was Hispanic. 

Sweet air kissed his lungs. "Santos?" 

Welsh stood up and nodded. "Yeah. Looks like someone shot him in the back of the head." 

Suddenly, a call came over the radios from the back of the warehouse. "Officer down. We need an ambulance." 

* * *

Hands palmed together, Fraser closed his eyes, his thumbs pressed against his forehead. He didn't know if he believed in God, not personally, but he wanted to have faith in a higher power, a universal goodness that protected those who did right, who fought for others. He desperately needed that hope, that succor that such a conviction would allow. He loved Ray with all his heart, the thought of losing him almost too much to bear. 

Darkness swirled inside Fraser's head as he tried to focus, tried to push away the despair growing in his gut as they waited without word. Welsh sat beside him, not even trying to make chit chat, not bothering with saying Ray would be fine when they both knew from what they'd seen, that wasn't likely, at least not right away. 

Ray's skin had been so cold to Fraser's touch, his life signs minimal, his body so still. Fraser gave an involuntary shudder at the image in his head, of Ray's battered face, of the bruises on his naked body. A hand touched his shoulder. "Constable, are you all right?" 

His eyes still closed, his head still bowed, Fraser shook his head. "I don't think so, no. I should've been with him." 

"This isn't your fault. He should've taken backup, but it's not your fault that he chose not to." 

Fraser sat up and leaned back against the plastic chair of the waiting room, his arms folded across his chest. "It's been too long." 

"Dr. Merman said he'd come tell us when he could. They're busy working on him. All we can do is wait." 

"You called his parents?" 

Welsh's eyes narrowed with concern as he stared at him. "Yes. You were there when I told Merman they were in Florida." 

"Ah, right you are. I'm sorry. I didn't remember that." 

"I understand." Welsh patted his arm. "Why don't I get us both some coffee? We could be here all night." 

"No, thank you." 

Just as the Lieutenant opened his mouth to argue, Dr. Merman stepped into the waiting room. At the end of middle-age and entirely grey, the doctor stepped closer. "Lieutenant, Constable, he's holding his own, but he's still not out of the woods yet." 

Fraser stood up, his body too tense to sit still. "What's his condition?" 

"Still serious. When he arrived, his core temperature was just 88 degrees and as you know, that's a full 10 degrees below normal. We're warming him up slowly, but we're also concerned with how that will affect his heart and the presence of any internal bleeding. We plan to keep him closely monitored during the whole warming process." 

Welsh asked, "How long does something like that take?" 

"Several hours. There's no set timetable. We have to be careful not to overstress the heart. Also, if there's abdominal bleeding, the colder temperature slowed that down. We might need to do surgery, but I'm hoping that's not the case. If it is, I don't want to do it until he's more stable." 

Fraser's voice choked. "What about his face?" 

"I know it looks bad, but it's soft tissue damage. Fortunately, there are no broken bones in his face or anywhere else. There's also no sign of concussion. Considering the severity of the assault, that's a welcome surprise." 

Relieved, but still needing more, Fraser asked softly, "May we see him?" 

"I'm afraid not. He's been conscious off and on, but he's not lucid yet. Perhaps in a few more hours, after we move him upstairs to the cardiac care unit, I can allow you a few minutes." 

Disappointed, but pleased Ray had a better chance than when he first arrived, Fraser nodded. "I want to see him as soon as I can." 

"I figured." Merman's voice softened. "He asked for Ben. I assume Ben's short for Benton." 

"Yes. Please tell him I'm here." 

"Already done, Constable. I'll tell the nurse to come get you both once he's settled upstairs." The doctor hesitated. "It could be a while. Why don't you and the Lieutenant here go get something to eat in the cafeteria? I'll page you if anything happens. It won't do your partner any good if you make yourself sick while you wait. He's going to need you during his recovery." 

"But you do believe he'll recover?" 

"Yes, I do. I think we got to him in time." The doctor turned his attention to the Lieutenant. "Take the Constable here to get something to eat. I don't need another patient on my hands." 

As soon as the doctor left, Fraser sagged into the seat beside Welsh. The lieutenant looked at him, his voice more gentle and relieved than Fraser could ever remember hearing before. "He's going to be fine, just fine. Too tough to cash it in, thank god, and the doctor's right. You look almost as bad as Ray. Let's go get something to eat and then we'll come right back." 

"I'm sure you have things to do, Lieutenant. I could wait here and let you know what happens." 

Offended, Welsh practically growled. "You think I'm leaving you here alone while one of my detectives is fighting for his life?" 

"No, sir, I mean, that is to say, I'm sorry. Of course you wouldn't leave under the circumstances." 

"Of course not. So, I'll say it again, let's go to the cafeteria. It won't do your partner a bit of good if you pass out and break your face." 

"It's very unlikely something like that would happen, sir." 

"Doesn't matter. Two against one. The doc and I think you need a break. So, as Vecchio would say, pitter patter, Constable. Let's go get something to eat." 

Fraser shook his head and remained seated. "I really don't think I could eat, sir." 

Welsh stood up and tried a different tactic. "What do you think your partner would say about that?" 

Swallowing hard, Fraser reluctantly got up. "I'm afraid I don't use that kind of language, sir." 

Welsh smiled and put a hand in the small of Fraser's back to guide him out of the waiting room. "He's never short of colorful phrases, that's for sure, one of his more entertaining, if somewhat frustrating qualities." 

Walking to the elevator, they stopped and waited, Fraser's gut still too tight, his head pounding. As they got on, Welsh repeated himself, "He's going to be fine, just fine." 

Fraser closed his eyes and prayed for that to be true. 

* * *

Ray opened his eyes slowly, wanting to complain about the cold, but found he couldn't talk, not right away. He hurt all over, but his mouth throbbed the worst. He ran a slow tongue over his swollen bottom lip, glad he didn't have to explain how the hell he got himself so fucked up. 

Icicles are us. 

Welsh was going to kill him if he didn't freeze to death first. 

Ray shook under the blanket. Despite the heat, he couldn't get warm. He turned his head to see a grey-haired man in a white coat standing there reading the monitor. "I'm Dr. Merman. Do you know where you are?" 

"Hospital." 

"Correct. Do you know your name?" 

Ray closed his eyes again, wishing like hell he could tell the truth. Instead, he rasped out, "Vecchio, Raymond, Detective First Grade." He coughed hard and his chest wanted to rip apart. "Shit." 

Ray grabbed his chest, but the doctor quickly moved his arm back down to his side. "Don't. You'll disturb the IV." The doctor checked both his eyes with a pin light and stood back. "Relax. You're doing fine." 

"Hurts." And it did, like freezer burn, like somebody scraped the inside of his lungs with a blunt knife. 

"I know, but you're doing very well, considering. I know you feel cold, but we're warming you up with heated saline solutions and oxygen along with a special blanket which will raise your body temperature slowly." 

"Why slow? Why not just thaw me out fast?" 

"We don't want to stress your heart." 

"How much longer before I warm back up?" 

"A few hours." 

"Then what?" 

"We'll wait and see how you do. If there's no internal bleeding, then you'll be here at least another 48 hours." 

Ray didn't even want to think about internal bleeding or anything else. He just wanted more heat as his teeth chattered and he shivered all over. "I need to see Fraser." 

"Your partner and your Lieutenant are both downstairs. I'll send word. You can have a few minutes, but then you need to be quiet and rest." 

"Thanks." 

"No problem. Now, lie still. We'll try to make you as comfortable as possible while you're here." 

Merman left and Ray sighed, grateful to be breathing, groaning at the pain in his belly while his face reminded him that it was still two sizes too big. 

After a few minutes, Ray blinked several times to clear his vision so he could see Ben. His partner moved closer, took his hand, his eyes way too bright for a respectable Mountie. "Ray, Ray, Ray, I was so worried." 

"I know. Sorry." 

Welsh's bulky form moved into his line of vision. "And we're going to talk about your actions when you're better, Detective." 

"Hey, sir." 

"Hey yourself. When you get out of here, I'm going to kick your butt all the way to Sunday. Going in without backup, not calling in. What the hell were you thinking?" 

Frowning, Ray shook his head, confused. "I told Anderson where I'd be. I called and left a message." 

"You what?" 

"After I talked to Durbin, I called and left a message on his machine at home. I told him what I was doing. He was supposed to meet me, but he never showed up." 

"He said you didn't call." 

"Then he's a liar." 

Welsh frowned darkly. "If this is true, he left you out there without backup." 

Ray caught Ben's dark expression and it scared him shitless. No way did he want to see his partner go to prison for murdering an asshole cop, even if Anderson deserved it. "Look, maybe the machine messed up." 

Fraser shook his head. "I don't think so, Ray. I think he wanted you to be hurt, possibly killed." 

"But we don't know that for sure, Fraser." 

"Why are you defending him, Ray? You could've died." 

"I don't like him, that's true, but even I don't want to think another cop's going to pull shit like that." 

Welsh interrupted. "I'll check it out. Meanwhile, what the hell happened?" 

"Santos got me when I was coming out of Ross's place." 

Welsh rubbed the back of his head. "Ross said you were never there." 

"I was there and I told him about the Forster case, about what we thought about Santos and his connection to the murders." Ray swallowed hard, his body no longer shaking from the cold, but still stiff and achy. "What about Santos? What happened to him and how did you find me?" 

Fraser and Welsh exchanged glances. Fraser spoke first. "We found Santos dead in the same warehouse where we found you." 

Welsh followed up. "The dead body came from an anonymous tip. We figure whoever killed Santos, called it in." 

"And saved my life. The guy was going to kill me." A shudder that had nothing to do with cold wracked Ray's body. "Santos wanted to know about Forster's computer. When I couldn't tell him, he was going to kill me and dump the body in the lake." 

Fraser spoke quietly. "Whoever killed Santos called the body in so that we'd find you when we searched the warehouse." 

"Had to be Ross." 

Welsh shook his head. "Ross has an airtight alibi for the timeframe of the murder." 

Suddenly more tired than he could possibly say, Ray closed his eyes. "Good." 

Neither Welsh or Fraser disagreed as he drifted off. 

* * *

Waking slowly, Ray wiggled his fingers and toes. They burned and tingled like crazy, but he finally knew they were there, a big improvement over the earlier numbness. He turned his head and smiled despite his damaged lips. "Hey, Ben." 

"Hi, Ray." Ben looked up and put the paper down beside the bed. He stood and stepped closer, his face more relaxed, but still serious. His crossed arms rested on the raised rail. "How are you feeling this morning?" 

"Like I'm still on defrost. You?" 

"I'm fine." 

"No offense, but you look like hell. You get any sleep last night? And don't lie to me, because you know you don't do that worth shit." 

"It's hard to sleep when the man you love is still so ill." 

"But I'm better." Ray reached up, took Ben's hand, and gave it a light squeeze before he released it. It still hurt to move, like he'd sparred a few too many rounds with no head gear and with a guy twice his size. Even his balls ached and the catheter in his dick pulled at all the wrong times. "You should go home and get some sleep." 

"I couldn't sleep, Ray. I need to be here." 

"I thought you had to be at the Consulate since the Ice Queen isn't around." 

Ben rubbed his right eyebrow and stood a little straighter, almost like he was coming to attention. "Inspector Thatcher thought it prudent to return early." 

"Prudent, huh? Any reason why?" 

"I called and informed her that I needed emergency personal leave and that Constable Turnbull would then, in turn, be in charge of the Consulate should she choose not to reassume command." 

It hurt too much to laugh, but that didn't stop his grin. "God, you're sneaky when you have to be." 

"I don't know what's sneaky about that, Ray. I merely told her the truth of the situation." 

"Like you didn't know she would hurry back here in a heartbeat knowing Turnbull's got a brain like Swiss cheese when it comes to stuff tougher than cleaning and looking pretty in red." 

Ben tilted his head, his expression suddenly less playful. "Looking pretty, Ray? You find Turnbull attractive?" 

"Well, sure. I'm in love with you, Ben, but I'm not blind." 

"You love me?" 

Ray sighed heavily and reached up for Ben's hand. "I thought we covered that before I did the Popsicle routine. I love you. I don't want Turnbull or Stella or anyone else." 

Ray enjoyed the rich flush of Ben's pale skin. "I love you, too, Ray. I must confess it still surprises me to hear you say it." 

"Me, too. I mean, I told myself the truth a long time before I said it out loud. Feels good." 

"Indeed it does." 

They stayed quiet a few moments, still holding hands, before Ray asked, "When did they say they'd spring me to go home?" 

"Not for a while yet." 

"Why's it take so long? I'm all nice and toasty." 

"They want to monitor your heart. Sometimes a delayed arrhythmia occurs because of the hypothermia." 

"Arrhythmawhatsis?" 

"Irregular heartbeat." 

"And that's a bad thing?" 

"Yes, it is. As soon as they believe it's safe to do so, they'll release you. Even then, you'll need to rest for some time before returning to work. You took quite a beating." 

Ray closed his eyes briefly and then took a deep breath. No way did he want to think about Santos, the fists and the hateful touches he couldn't fend off. "Yeah, he worked me over pretty good. Lucky he didn't rupture something important." 

"There's extensive bruising on your face and torso, but fortunately, no internal bleeding. Still, I'm sure it's painful." 

"I'll live. That's all that matters." 

"Yes, it is." 

Ray met those deep blue eyes, warmed more by that loving look than any heated blanket. "So, you took emergency personal leave, huh? That mean what I think it means?" 

"It means I plan to be with you during your recovery, Ray." 

"What about after my recovery, after I get well? You going to be there then?" 

"Absolutely." 

"That's good then." 

"It's very good." 

"I just said that." 

"So you did, Ray." 

"You call my mum and dad like I asked?" 

Ben's face got suddenly more serious. "Yes, I did. I'm afraid your mother was quite distraught. I told her you were responding well to treatment and that she and your father didn't need to drive all the way back from Miami. As you requested, I told her you said you preferred they didn't come back because of the bad weather. However, you should call her and talk to her yourself to relieve some of her anxiety." 

"What about Pop? Did you talk to him?" 

"He also showed great concern. He wanted to know if you needed money for hospital expenses even though I assured him that your insurance was more than adequate at this time. He was also interested in the details of the case." 

"What'd you tell him?" 

Ben stood straighter, more stiffly. "Simply that the investigation was ongoing." 

"Which it is." 

"We both know that this could've been avoided if you'd had proper backup." 

Ray didn't want to talk about Anderson, but he needed to know the truth. "Maybe so. What'd Welsh say about it? He talk to Anderson, find out what happened?" 

"Anderson still maintains that you didn't call." 

"Then it's my word against his. We can't get a warrant for his machine and, besides, he's probably erased it anyway." 

"Perhaps, but Lt. Welsh checked your cell phone records and there is a call to Anderson's number at the time you said and it shows a connection of sixty seconds, long enough to leave the message. It's enough to support an internal investigation." 

"IA? Shit, I hate those guys. They're going to bring up all that shit about him and me and Stella." 

Ben's tone turned prickly. "What do you propose, Ray, that the matter be dropped, that a man like Anderson be allowed to continue being a police officer when he didn't even attempt to protect his partner?" 

"I'm just saying I hate IA. I wish there were another way to handle it." 

Ben pursed his lips. "There might be." 

"What?" 

"If Anderson offers to resign, he might avoid criminal charges." 

"He's never going to do that and criminal charges will be too hard to prove. The most he'll get from IA will be a suspension and that's only if they believe me over him." 

"Possibly." 

"I'm telling you, Ben, that's all that's going to happen. Besides, it's water under the bridge." 

Ben's frown deepened. "You're not angry about what he did?" 

"Sure I'm pissed, but it's over and I'm not without blame here. When he didn't show up at Barney's, I should've called in to Welsh or waited. It's not all on him. I was in such a rush to get to Ross, I didn't think about Santos going off the deep end." 

Ben shook his head in amazement. "I must confess, you're more generous than I am, Ray." 

"You wanted to kick him in the head, huh?" 

"At the very least I wanted to give him a good thrashing." 

"A good thrashing works." Ray shifted slightly in the bed, but didn't move far, his body reminding him in no uncertain terms of his own recent thrashing. "I've got a better idea." 

"What's that, Ray?" 

"I was thinking about calling Stella." 

"Stella? Why Stella?" 

"Because IA can't hurt the guy half as much as she can once she finds out what he did." 

"You think she'll work on your behalf?" 

"We were married fifteen years, Ben, and were best friends before that. Sure, she had a thing with Anderson for a while, but I know in my heart, she wouldn't want anything really bad to happen to me." 

Ben tugged his ear and then nodded. "Then you should call her. See if she can expedite his confession and resignation." 

"You don't mind?" 

"Mind what, you interacting with Stella? Why should I?" 

"She's not your favorite person." 

Fraser had the decency to look embarrassed. "Why do you say that?" 

"I'm a detective. You don't like her, never have. I didn't get that before, but I do now." 

Shrugging, Ben didn't bother to deny the truth. "What is it that you think you get, Ray?" 

"You love me, have for a long time. You thought I still had a thing for Stella." 

In his own defense, Fraser argued, "You've had an ongoing obsession with Stella for as long as I've known you, Ray. You were practically stalking her when she was dating Alderman Orsini." 

"Well, yeah, but not now, not now that I've got you." 

Ben took his hand and squeezed gently. "I'm pleased, Ray." 

"Yeah, me, too." Ray closed his eyes, his breathing slower, too sleepy to keep talking. So he didn't. He lay there and let Ben hold his hand while his partner softly sang a lullaby sweeter than the wind on a sunny day. 

* * *

Frannie came into the hospital room carrying a package and some bright red and yellow flowers. She motioned to Ray and whispered to Fraser, "What's up with Sleeping Beauty? He doing okay?" 

"He's much improved, though presently, he's under sedation. Dr. Merman suggested he might be released in a few more days if he continues to improve." 

"That's great." 

Frannie put the package on the table near Ray's bed and then put the tulip and daisy arrangement by the window. She came and sat down next to Fraser, crossed her legs, and leaned over as she continued to keep her voice low. "Your wolf's a real dog, Fraser." 

"Well, he is half canine." 

"Yeah, but when he gets around Ante, it comes out full tilt, if you know what I'm saying." 

Fraser flushed as the suggestive tone and nodded, "I believe I do. Is Ante in season?" 

"If that means, is she in heat, yeah. I had to put Dief in the backyard while I took Ante over to my sister's place." 

"That would certainly seem prudent." 

"Didn't want to give Ma a heart attack looking out and seeing your wolf taking advantage of the poor poodle." 

"I do appreciate you taking care of Diefenbaker, Francesca. I'm sorry if it turned out to be an inopportune time." 

"It's okay. It's not really a problem. Ante was making me crazy with all her crying and carrying on, like she was going to just die any minute if she didn't get some." 

"Get some what?" 

"You know, some action, some sweet doggie love. She wanted your wolf in the worst way. God, don't I know that feeling." 

Fraser turned bright red and tugged at his left ear. "Indeed." 

"Anyway, it's all under control." Frannie's voice got suddenly serious as she stared at Ray's still form, his battered face. "This was a close call." 

"Yes, it was." 

They stayed quiet a few more moments before Frannie spoke again to change the subject. "That package came to Ma's house. I didn't think it was for my real brother, so I figured it must be for my new Bro. Thought I'd bring it over. He can open it up and see what it is when he wakes up." 

Fraser frowned and stood up, retrieving the flat, square package. He brought it back to his chair, turning it over several times. He studied the postmark and the return address. "Oh, dear." 

"What is it?" 

"I need to take this to the station. Could you stay with Ray until I return?" 

"Sure, I guess. What's going on? Is this thing important?" 

"It certainly could be. I believe it's Alexandra Forster's laptop computer." 

"You're kidding? She sent it to Ma's place?" 

"Well, Ray's address is still officially listed at your mother's home. Ms. Forster knew Raymond Vecchio was the detective on Dr. Bradford's murder case." He hurriedly put on his coat. "She must have mailed this before Santos kidnapped her." 

"So it's pretty important?" 

"It believe so, yes." 

Frannie stood up and took off her coat to get more comfortable. "Go on then, take off. I'll watch him. It's not like he's going to miss you for just a few hours." 

"Right you are." Fraser hesitated. "When he wakes, explain I'll be back as soon as possible. Also, try to get him to drink more juice. Apple juice is best for him, but if he insists, there's orange juice at the nurse's station." 

She shooed him out the door, shaking her head. "Get going. He'll be fine. Jeez, I thought Ma was a mother hen." 

Reluctantly, Fraser took the package and left. Frannie scooted closer to the bed to watch Ray sleep, something she'd only imagined. More still than she ever thought possible, she smiled at how, despite the bruising and swelling, he looked just like a little boy. She smoothed back his hair with affection and he moaned, his voice sleepy and loving. "Ben, that you?" 

Her hand snatched back, her breath hitched. He didn't wake up as she blinked several times, finally realizing what it all meant. She sank back and sagged in the chair, wishing that it didn't hurt like hell, like someone she trusted hadn't just kicked her in the gut. 

Now she knew why Fraser never looked twice. Now it all made sense. And, hell, it wasn't like she really loved Fraser. It was more like she loved the ideal of Fraser, the handsome, polite, intelligent Mountie. 

The shock over, relief settled in its place. She glanced at the sleeping blond, the wild guy posing as her brother, and shook her head, suddenly amused with the whole situation. Fuck, if that's what the Mountie ordered, she never had a chance. Somehow that made it all better. 

* * *

Ray rolled onto his side, taking care not to pull anything that couldn't stand pulling. His body complained and he joined in. "Ow. Ow. Ow. This sucks." 

"Ray, you really should lie still." 

"It hurts to keep lying on my back." 

Ben stood up and stepped to the side of the bed. "I understand completely. When I was in the hospital after being shot, I found that the drugs helped the pain, but not the real discomfort of lying still for so long in one position." 

"It's like my muscles are all tight and achy." 

"Exactly. Perhaps I can help." 

"How?" 

Ben moved to the other side of the bed. "A light massage. Nothing too vigorous to avoid damaging your skin, but it might help with the achy feeling you describe." 

Ray closed his eyes, sighing deeply, more than happy to have Ben touch him all over. "Go for it." 

Ben pulled open the back of Ray's gown, his strong hands lightly moving over Ray's tight shoulder muscles and then slowly along his spine and down to his waist and hips. Ray moaned in approval, his eyes closed as he drank in the heat and comfort of Ben's steady touch. "Oh, yeah, that works." After a few more minutes of gentle massage, Ben stopped. "That feels great. Do more." 

"I think that's enough for now. I'll ask the doctor about doing more later." 

Disappointed, Ray watched as Ben moved back into his range of sight. "Why would the doctor care?" 

Ben tilted his head slightly as he explained quietly, his voice suddenly tight. "Ray, you were hypothermic. Sometimes that can cause damage to the skin, so one has to be careful not to massage too vigorously at first." 

"Okay, okay, I guess that makes sense. Still felt good, though." 

"I'm glad." 

Ray reached out and took Ben's hand. "What's wrong? You seem upset about something." 

"It's not important right now." 

"Seems important. What's going on? What'd I miss?" 

"Ms. Forster's laptop has a copy of Dr. Bradford's book." 

"Well, that's good then, right?" 

"It was encrypted. We managed to get some of the files, but I doubt that it's going to be the least bit useful for prosecution." 

"Why's that?" 

"Because it's filled with material that reads more like a novel than any documented case." 

Ray frowned when he realized the full meaning behind the words. "So you're saying that none of the evidence is usable in court, that he and the girl died for nothing, right?" 

"It's still early yet, but, yes, that appears to be the case." 

"Fuck." 

"I'm sorry, Ray." 

Ray closed his eyes, pushing away the violent images of Bradford's bashed skull, of the Forster girl's mutilated corpse, of his own pain. "This isn't right, Ben." 

"No, it's not. However, the man responsible for the deaths and your assault is dead." 

"That supposed to make me feel better? It doesn't, not even a little bit. The son of a bitch killed two people and tried to kill me. It doesn't seem even." 

"Few things are." 

"Few things are what, even?" 

"In my experience, great pain isn't always assuaged by equal reckoning." 

"Like with your dad?" 

"And like now." 

"Yeah, I get that. I get that. Still sucks." 

"Yes, Ray, it does, indeed, suck." 

Ray smiled at that, hearing Ben use a word that seemed so contrary to his polite Mountie style. He squeezed his best friend's hand gently. "What else is going on? You seem really weird tonight. Something else happen? You having second thoughts?" 

Ben's eyes widened at the words as he protested, "God, no. No second thoughts, Ray, nothing of that nature. 

"Then what?" 

Leaning in, Ben kept his voice to a hush. "I do believe we've been discovered." 

"Discovered like in Columbus or something?" 

"As in, I think Francesca knows about our relationship." 

Shocked, Ray shifted his head back on his pillow to get a better look at the man talking crazy. "No way." 

"I'm afraid so." 

"How do you know?" 

"I'm not sure. I just do." 

"Ben, you can't just say that. I'm the one with hunches, not you." 

Standing a little straighter, Ben protested the assessment of his character. "I have hunches." 

"Only if they come wrapped up in a logical sequence with lots of clues." 

Ben dismissed the argument with a shrug. "Perhaps you have a point. Still..." 

"Still, what happened to make you think Frannie knows about us?" 

"At first I thought perhaps you told her, but then I realized you'd never do that without discussing it with me first." 

"Damn straight there, Ben. So what the hell happened?" 

"She didn't flirt with me when she left." 

"Didn't flirt?" 

"No, she simply patted my arm and told me to take care of you. She also mentioned that she'd keep Diefenbaker longer if we needed more time to settle in at your apartment." 

"Sweet Jesus. She knows." 

"I believe so, yes." 

"But how?" 

"I have no idea. Did you wake up and say something while I was gone?" 

"I didn't wake up, or at least I don't remember waking up. I didn't even know Frannie was here except when I saw the flowers." 

"Then it must have been something I did or said that allowed the deduction." 

Ray snorted. "Deduction? Frannie?" 

"Francesca's a very intelligent woman, Ray." 

"I'm not saying she's dumb, Ben. I'm saying she goes on her gut. We must have been giving off signals." 

"Well, if that's the case, we need to be more circumspect unless we want others to realize our changed status." 

Ray raised the head of his bed a few inches while he thought about his words, not really sure how he felt about the new topic. "I'm not ashamed of being with you, Ben, not one bit. If it were up to me, I'd tell everybody, you know that. I just don't know how you feel about it or if it's a good idea. We're not on our own here. We've got Vecchio to consider." 

"I think your undercover status has to be our first consideration, Ray. I'm just not sure how it would be affected by people knowing that we were together. Unfortunately, this is unfamiliar territory. I have no idea who to ask for guidance. I don't want to put Ray Vecchio or you at risk by revealing our romantic relationship." 

Ray smiled and took Ben's hand, lacing their fingers. "Romantic, huh? I like the sound of that." 

"Ray, please, we need to decide what to do." 

"I vote we forget about it for now and talk later. I'm tired. Besides, if Frannie knows, we might not have much say one way or the other." 

"You think she'd be indiscreet and reveal our situation?" 

"We're talking Frannie here, Ben." 

"Oh, dear." 

"We should get her over here and talk to her." 

Fraser flushed bright red. "Talk, Ray?" 

Ray took pity on his partner, knowing full well how Ben was when it came to talking about personal things, especially to women. "I'll do it." 

Ben relaxed visibly against the rail. "Thank you." 

"Hey, you're not getting off Scott free here. I talk to Frannie about keeping her mouth shut until we decide what to do and I get more of that Mountie massage later, okay?" 

"Certainly." 

Ray raised up a little higher as Fraser leaned down to hear his whisper. "And when we get home, I want kisses, Ben. Lots of kisses, everywhere. Deal?" 

Ben smiled with pleasure and nodded, a big gleam in his blue eyes. "Deal." 

* * *

Ray opened his eyes, still groggy from his medication, his vision a little blurry. Seeing Turnbull sitting quietly next to Ben surprised him. It was odd with Turnbull in full uniform, all red and shiny, and his Ben in jeans and flannel, like it should've been the other way around. But he wasn't complaining, not a bit. He loved his Ben formal or casual or completely naked. It all worked. He appreciated the difference between the two men before he finally mumbled, "Hey, Ben. Hey, Turnbull." 

The young Mountie moved to the side of the bed with a smile as Ben stayed seated, his face filled with amusement. "Oh, Ray, I hope I didn't wake you." 

"No, I'm pretty doped up, though. Didn't know you were here. What's going on?" 

"I wanted to come thank you in person." 

Ray glanced over at his partner, but got no help, no clue at all about what the hell the guy was talking about. "Okay, I give. Thank me for what?" 

"For introducing me to Kevin." 

"Kevin Warshalski?" 

"Exactly." Turnbull's face practically glowed with excitement. "I must confess when you first suggested the notion of playing matchmaker, I had my misgivings. I suppose that had more to do with my heartfelt disappointment at losing my chance at first dibs to your affections rather than not trusting that you would, of course, be true to your word. However, I must say that Kevin and I seem very well-suited. Did you know he has a MA in English Literature from Northwestern University and that he studied all across Europe?" 

Ray pushed the button that brought up the head of his bed. He'd forgotten all about the thing with Kevin. "No, I didn't know that." 

"He's really quite remarkable and I find myself inexplicably drawn to his wonderfully soulful nature. He writes poetry, too. Have you ever read any of his work? It's quite moving." 

Turnbull's dreamy tone brought Ben to his feet to stand beside him. "Ray and I are both very glad you've found a new friend, Constable. However, as you can see Ray really needs to rest now." 

Turnbull blushed scarlet and nodded in agreement. "I didn't mean to overstay. I just wanted to pay my respects and to thank Ray for introducing me to Kevin." Turnbull reached over and grabbed Ray's hand with both his own in that melodramatic, over the top way he had. "You've changed my whole life, Ray. I just thought you should know that." 

"Yeah, well, you're welcome." 

Turnbull let him go and picked up his hat and coat. "If there's anything at all you need, please feel free to call on me. I consider myself in your debt completely." 

With a quick tip of his hat, Turnbull left and shut the door. 

Ray opened his mouth and then shut it again as he eyed Ben's smiling and pleased face. "What?" 

"That was very romantic of you." 

"What?" 

"Arranging for your friend's cousin to call Turnbull." 

"Kevin's a good guy. He and Turnbull have a lot in common." 

"Apparently. He told me quite a lot about him while you were sleeping." 

Ray rubbed his face, his mind still a little woozy. "Sorry about that. I can't seem to stay awake for long." 

"No need to be sorry. You need to rest." 

"Yeah, but that means you get stuck listening to Turnbull. I know that's not a big thrill." 

Ben shrugged, but never lost the grin. "Actually, it was really quite informative." 

"Informative?" 

"Dibs, Ray?" 

"What?" 

"Did you really tell the man that I called dibs, like you were some kind of possession to be had for the asking?" 

Ray enjoyed Ben's teasing tone and laughed. "Well, yeah. I told him I'm all yours 'cause you got to me first. Thank god." They held hands and then Ray added, "Though I have to say, it kind of crushes a guy's ego that he moved on so damn fast. Here I thought he had this big unrequited love thing going on for me and now he's already found somebody else. Fickle Mountie." 

Ben's eyes twinkled, but his face got suddenly more serious. "I assure you, Ray, not all Mounties are as capricious with our affections as Turnbull." 

"You sure? You're not just saying that?" 

"Absolutely sure." 

"Good thing." 

"A very good thing." 

* * *

Shuffling back from the bathroom, IV pole in one hand and Ben holding the other, Ray walked like an old man, bent over and hurting. Hell, a hundred years and counting would've made him feel younger. As Ben helped him get back into the hospital bed, he lay back and closed his eyes, huffing from the short physical exertion. "God, I'm out of shape." 

Ben covered him with the sheet and blanket, smoothing down the sides and then raising the rail. "You're recovering from a severe beating and exposure, Ray. You're lucky to be walking at all. You're actually doing remarkably well." 

"I feel worse today than I did yesterday." 

"Do you need more pain medication?" 

"I'm not saying that. They're giving me good stuff. It's just I don't like feeling doped to the gills and all busted up." 

"You need the medication to relieve the pain so you can rest easier, Ray." 

Ray stopped complaining and kept it simple. "I just want to go home, the sooner, the better." 

Ben palmed his forehead and petted back Ray's hair, his voice thick with affection. "Understood. However, as you know, Dr. Merman is just being cautious. He wants to be sure your heart, lungs, and kidneys weren't adversely affected by the hypothermia. Those kind of complications don't always show up right away. I, for one, appreciate his conservative approach." 

"But..." 

"But you're impatient. I understand that. I, too, hate the whole hospital experience. However, sometimes it's unavoidable if you wish to make a full and complete recovery." 

"You'd feel different if you were the one lying here like some pin cushion, getting stuck with needles night and day." 

"I assure you, I wouldn't." 

"Would, too." 

"Ray..." 

"I'm just saying." 

Ben took a calming breath. "It's only natural to be irritable during convalescence." 

"You saying I'm pissy?" 

"A tad grumpy." 

"Pissy." 

"A bit cross, perhaps." Ben reached over to the bedside table and picked up a plastic spoon and a small container. "This should help." 

Ray grinned despite his bad mood and sore mouth. "Pudding?" 

"Not just pudding, Ray, dark chocolate and fudge pudding." 

"You trying to cheer me up and distract me with pudding?" 

"That's my intention, yes." 

"Great. Open it up and hand it over." Ray pushed the button to raise his bed as Ben moved the tray into position. He peeled off the foil covering and gave it to Ray. "Where'd you get this?" 

"They actually have an above average cafeteria downstairs." 

Ray put the first spoonful in his mouth, his split lower lip complaining, but his tongue thrilled to death. The chocolate flavor made him shiver. He nodded and smiled at Ben. "Good stuff. Thanks." He devoured the whole thing in short order and scraped the bottom with disappointment. "Got any more?" 

"Not at the moment, but I can certainly get more later." 

Ray put the spoon and cup down as he nodded approval. "Yeah, thanks. I'd like that." 

"You're more than welcome, Ray. I'm glad you enjoyed it." 

"You know me and chocolate." 

"Indeed I do, Ray. I hope this means you've recovered your appetite as well." 

"Sure, I could eat, just nothing too tough." He lifted a hand to his bottom lip and ran a finger over his injured mouth. "Still hurts to chew." 

Ben didn't say anything, just frowned and then reached over to take Ray's hand. "I wish I could make it easier for you." 

"You do, Ben. You're here." Ray squeezed his partner's hand for emphasis. "That counts." Reassured, Ben accepted that, but still didn't speak. "What?" 

"I've just been thinking about what we discussed earlier." 

"What's that?" 

"About telling people about our relationship." 

Ray shifted back, releasing Ben's hand, and trying to get more comfortable. His gut ached and every movement reminded him of his battered state. "Okay, okay. So, what'd you decide?" 

"Well, I haven't decided anything, Ray. I believe we have to do that together. It's just that I've been going through the pros and cons in my mind..." 

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" 

"What?" 

"That you'd have to analyze it, be all logical, like it was some kind of math or something. It just is. We either tell people or we don't." 

"It's not that simple, Ray. Even if we didn't have Ray Vecchio's safety to consider, it would still be more complicated than just telling people or not telling people. We have to consider the full impact this kind of announcement might cause." 

"Full impact? Like what? Like Vecchio might come back and hear he's gay and shacked up with his partner and go apeshit? Or worse, maybe some mob guy will figure out I'm not Vecchio, because no way Vecchio's a homo and he ends up getting whacked because we're out. Or how about the impact of telling my folks, my folks who love me, but being good Catholics will think I've lost my fucking mind and disown my faggoty ass for another eight or nine years or maybe even forever. Or how about the impact of being a queer cop in Chicago? That's always good for a few laughs in a dark alley somewhere. And what about you and yours, Fraser? How do Mounties take to fairies up in the far North? Got any good stories to tell about that?" 

Shocked by both the language and the intensity, Ben stood very straight, his voice strained. "I see you've given this some serious thought as well." 

"You could say that, yeah. It's still pretty simple though. We either tell people or we don't." 

Ben rubbed his right eyebrow several times and shook his head in frustration. "How is that simple, Ray? As you've pointed out, the consequences of being open about this could be devastating." 

"Yeah, it could, but lying, it kills you inside, Ben. Sure, I know we need to wait until Vecchio's back before we go dancing in public. Believe me, I get that. But we need to tell certain people, the people we trust, the ones who'd probably figure it out anyway. I can't live a lie to my friends and family, Ben. I just can't, not anymore, not about this." 

"You're sure?" 

"Sure I'm sure. Do I look like I'm not sure?" 

"Actually, you look decidedly stubborn about the whole thing." Ben smiled, suddenly more relaxed. 

"That a good thing?" 

"That's a very good thing. I was having a difficult time dealing with this myself. I wasn't sure how you truly felt about it." 

"Now you know." 

"Yes, I do, and I concur. I believe there are several people who should know. Now, we have to discuss who those people are." 

"Well, Frannie already knows. I'll talk to her about keeping quiet until we're ready. Then I figure Welsh will need to know, but nobody else at the station." 

"Not even Detective Huey or Dewey?" 

"Huey maybe, but Dewey, no way." 

"May I ask why we can trust Detective Huey and not Dewey?" 

"Jack doesn't care about stuff like this. Dewey calls guys faggot for fun. I don't want to deal with that, not yet. I don't really want to put Huey in the position of keeping something he knows for sure from his scuzzy partner." 

"I see." 

"You agree?" 

"I think so, yes." 

"I have to know so, Ben. You want to tell Huey or not?" 

"If he asks, yes." 

"Okay, if he asks, that's fine." 

Ben hesitated and tugged at his right ear. "What about Stella and your parents?" 

"I'll tell Stella, but I'm going to hold off on Mum and Dad." 

"May I ask why?" 

"Stella might be surprised, but I doubt it. She knows me pretty good, knows I've thought about guys. She's a lawyer, so keeping quiet about private stuff, not a problem." 

"And your parents?" 

"I can't really deal with them right now, but as soon as I'm better and they're back in town, I'll tell them. Not over the phone though, face to face. I'll tell Mum first, see if she can sort of soften the old man up first before I show him the whole picture." 

"You're sure your mother will be supportive?" 

Ray closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Pretty sure. My dad's another story. He's hard-core Catholic. He's not going to like it, but after being gone all that time, I'm hoping he's willing to overlook it and not take off again. I won't know until we tell him." 

"We?" 

"You think I'm doing this alone, you're crazy." 

Ben smiled and shook his head. "I'd never ask you to do this alone, Ray. We're in this together." 

Ray nodded with approval and then rubbed his eyes, suddenly very tired. "Okay, okay, that's fine. What about your guys? Turnbull knows, but he's on our team, so I don't see him running his mouth." 

"Turnbull can be rather flamboyant, but is basically discreet about such matters. No need to worry about that, Ray. I do think, however, that I should tell Inspector Thatcher." 

Suddenly more alert, Ray sat up a little straighter. "You mean officially?" 

"Rather more unofficially officially. She wouldn't report it unless it somehow affected my ability to serve, which it shouldn't. However, she is my commanding officer and needs to know that my ultimate allegiance is to you as much as if you were my legal spouse." 

"Legal spouse?" 

"Exactly, Ray. As soon as possible, as soon as Ray returns, I'd like to list you as my domestic partner. It would allow for my benefits to be put in your name without having to go through other legal channels." 

Ray swallowed hard, his eyes stinging. "You'd do that, list me on your insurance and stuff?" 

"I plan to, yes." 

"For the whole world to see?" 

Ben leaned forward and caressed Ray's cheek. "Ray, I'd marry you right this minute if you'd have me and if the law would allow it. I consider you my partner in every way." 

The words choked in his throat, but Ray smiled and reached to capture Ben's hand. "Yeah, me, too." 

Neither man said another word, but Ben leaned over and kissed Ray gently to seal the oath between them. 

* * *

Thrilled to be out of the hospital, Ray didn't even complain about Ben's god awful driving, the way his partner rode the brake and went about five miles an hour despite all the blaring horns and obscene gestures from the other drivers. Cool as you please, Ben kept his eyes on the road, his hands on the wheel, and eventually got Ray home before some bozo blew them both away in a fit of justifiable road rage. 

Inside the apartment, Ray sagged on the sofa and sighed with relief. "Home again, home again. Jiggity-jig." 

Ben put the flowers and balloons along with Ray's bag on the kitchen table. "What exactly does that mean, Ray?" 

"What?" 

"That thing you say, home again, home again, jiggity-jig. It is some kind of Polish tradition?" 

"Polish? Naw. My dad used to say it." Ray shifted to a more comfortable position on the sofa. "When I was a kid, every summer we'd go places, Arizona, Mexico, the Grand Canyon. My dad only got two weeks vacation and he'd take it the first of August every year. We'd hop in an RV and just drive for days and days. We'd see all the tourist spots, back roads, too, come to think of it. Then we'd drive back home again at the last minute, tired as all get out. Whenever we got back, my dad would say the same thing, home again, home again, jiggity-jig. Never bothered to ask what it meant. It just feels good to say it." 

"I'm sure it does. It's always a relief to return to one's own environment." 

"Yeah, a relief. That works." 

Ben moved around the apartment, placing the flowers near the window, slightly adjusting the light over the turtle tank, and taking Ray's bag into the bedroom. He returned to stand at the edge of the couch. "Would you like something to eat or drink before you get into bed?" 

"Coffee." 

"Coffee it is then. What about food?" 

"Maybe later." 

"You can't live on pudding forever, Ray." 

"I won't. I'm just not hungry yet." 

"Very well." Ben walked into the kitchen. "Francesca should be here soon." 

"Frannie? Why?" 

"I told her when you were being released and that I could pick up Diefenbaker later this evening. She offered to bring him back early." 

"Early? Dief making a pest of himself around Ante?" 

Ben smiled with amusement as he proceeded to make the coffee and put water on to boil for tea. "Ante was in season. She spent the stay at Francesca's sister's house." 

"What? They don't want woodles?" 

"Woodles?" 

"Wolf and poodle together. Woodles." 

"Ah, I see." Ben grinned wider and then shook his head. "Woodles, indeed. The mind boggles. It's an image I'd rather not contemplate." 

"I'll bet Dief liked the idea." 

"I'm sure he did." 

"Ante could do worse. I mean, Dief's a good catch. Bet they'd make cute pups together." Ray's grin suddenly faded. 

"What's wrong?" 

"Nothin'." 

"Ray..." 

Reluctantly, Ray admitted, "I was just thinking it kind of reminded me of me and Stella." 

"Diefenbaker and Ante remind you of you and your ex-wife?" Ben moved to the edge of the sofa, confused. "I don't understand." 

"It's just he's kind of a mutt." Ray held up a finger. "Don't tell him I said that." 

"Of course not." 

"Anyway, you said it yourself the first time he sniffed her. She's way out of his league. She's a purebred, top of the line, not some streetwise dog who goes with just anybody." 

"And you see yourself as Diefenbaker and Stella as the bitch?" 

Shocked, Ray's head jerked up. "What'd you say about Stella?" 

"That you see her as Ante since she came from an affluent family." 

"No, I meant the bitch part." 

"I didn't mean it inappropriately, Ray. In the canine world the males are the dogs and the females are the bitches. I assure you I meant no disrespect." 

Still suspicious, Ray pushed, "You sure about that?" 

Ben didn't look away, but his lower lip twitched. "Pretty sure." 

Ray let it slide. It wasn't like he'd never called her that himself from time to time with good reason. "Anyway, I feel bad that Dief didn't even get a chance with her even though in the long run, he's probably better off. He'd get his heart stomped before it was over." 

"And it most likely wouldn't have been safe for Ante, either." 

"How come?" 

"One should consider the size of both parents before breeding. Dief is a great deal stockier than Ante. She might have had trouble whelping the pups." 

"I didn't think about that. Weird. I had a friend who had a beagle who got knocked up by a collie and she did okay." 

"Genetic results are somewhat unpredictable with canines, Ray." 

"Yeah, imagine a Great Dane and a Chihuahua." 

"Not even in my worst nightmare." Ben sat beside Ray, his voice softer as he changed the subject. "How are you feeling, really?" 

Ray shifted sideways and leaned his head on Ben's shoulder. His partner's arm wrapped around him protectively. "Tired, achy, but glad to be home." 

Ben kissed the top of his head. "I'm glad you're home as well." 

A knock spoiled the next moment. Ben got up and let Frannie and Dief in. The wolf headed straight for Ray and jumped up beside him, licking his face with enthusiasm. Despite the pain, Ray ruffled the fur at the side of the wolf's head. "Missed me, huh?" 

Dief barked and proceed to lick even harder before Ray pushed him away. "Enough, enough, I'm not kibble." 

Ben pulled Diefenbaker off with a warning. "Ray's injured. Take care." 

The wolf barked again, did a few circles, and then settled at Ray's feet. Ray reached over and petted the thick fur. "Missed you, too, buddy." 

Frannie stood by the end of the sofa, watching, being quiet for once. Ray glanced up and saw it for the first time, not sadness, but acceptance. It surprised him. "Hey, Frannie. Thanks for bringing him back." 

"No problem. He was driving Ma crazy. Every time she made meatballs, she had to make enough for an army just to keep him off the furniture." 

"I'm sorry, Francesca. Wolves can be terrible opportunists." 

"No reason why they should be any different than most guys." 

Not sure what to say, Ben motioned his head toward Diefenbaker. "Has he been walked yet?" 

"In this weather? With snow up to my butt? Not likely." 

Ray caught Ben's relieved expression. "Very well then. Diefenbaker, come. We need to go for a quick run." 

Giving a hard pat to Dief's shoulder, Ray urged the wolf up and out. "Go on. I'll visit with Aunt Frannie for a little while." 

As soon as Ben and Dief left, Ray turned to Frannie. "You want coffee? Ben made it fresh." 

Frannie sat in the chair beside the sofa, her face tight and serious. "How long, Ray?" 

He didn't pretend not to understand. "Not long. Right before I got hurt. What gave it away?" 

"The way you said Ben in the hospital." 

"When did I say Ben?" 

"In your sleep. I was petting back your hair and you wanted to know if I was Ben. Even I couldn't miss that." 

"You were petting my hair when I was asleep?" 

"Don't get excited." 

"I'm not excited." 

"Good, because it didn't mean anything. You just reminded me of my brother when he was a kid and he was sick, that's all." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

Ray took a deep breath. "So, are we okay? You and me, are we okay?" 

"Yeah, we're okay." 

"And you and Ben? I mean, I know you had feelings." 

Frannie raised a staying hand. "Stop. Sure, I had feelings. Who wouldn't? You can't be next to Fraser and not have feelings, but let's face it, he never had feelings back." 

"That's not true. He had feelings." 

"Yeah, but not the feelings I wanted him to have." 

"I guess not, but he's worried you're upset." 

She chuckled. "I could tell by the way he ran out of here like his hat was on fire." 

"You know Fraser. He'd never hurt you on purpose. He'll endanger his life in wild and crazy ways without even thinking, but don't ask him how he feels about it. Might have a stroke or something." 

"Yeah, same with my brother Ray unless it's to tell you what pisses him off. Scream and act crazy, that he can do, no problem. What is it with men? Why's it such a big deal to tell people what you feel?" 

"You're asking me?" 

"You're a man, right?" 

"Well, yeah." 

"So what gives? What's the big deal with you guys and feelings? You guys take an oath to clam up when you reach ten or what?" 

Ray considered the question, but shook his head. "You're asking the wrong person." 

Frannie eyed him stubbornly, not accepting that for an answer. "I don't think so, Ray. You open up more than most guys but you're still a guy." 

"Thanks for noticing." 

"I'm serious." 

"I know." Ray leaned forward, his breath hitching as he held his side against the pain. He ignored Frannie's look of concern. "I can't talk for everybody, just me, so here goes. It's scary because when you open up, it gives the other person power. She knows your secrets and she can hurt you, hurt you bad when things don't work out. When a woman cries and gets hurt, people feel sorry and try to help her out. When a man cries, it's like, shut up and be a man, be all butch and macho and take it." 

"Which is such bullshit." 

"Maybe, but that's the way it is. Shit, you're Italian. Nobody does that kind of thing better than you guys unless it's the Polacks. It's hard to break that kind of thinking, that's all I'm saying. With Fraser it's even worse." 

Frannie's eyes narrowed. "Why's it worse for Fraser?" 

"Take my word for it, it just is." 

Awareness dawned. "Victoria?" 

"Not my place to say." 

"You don't have to. I was there. I saw what the bitch did. Poor Fraser." 

Ray looked over at the stove, not wanting to spend one second longer thinking about Ben being hurt. "Water's boiling down to nothing. Would you take that pan off the stove for me?" 

"Sure." Frannie got up, turned off the water, and then got them both coffee. She settled back down and took a sip before she spoke again. "You mind if I ask a question?" 

"You can ask. Might not answer." 

"I just wondered about you and Stella. How could you be married so long and not know you were gay?" 

"I'm not gay. I'm bi." 

"Always?" 

"Pretty much. I was just in love with Stella so I didn't do anything about it." 

"Then along came Fraser." 

"Yeah." 

"Did you know from the start?" 

"Nearly, yeah." 

Frannie shook her head and laughed into her coffee. "You didn't have a chance." 

"Tell me about it." 

Leaning forward, Frannie put her coffee on the table. "You know it all makes sense. It explains why Fraser would never, well, you know, with me." 

"He likes you a lot, Frannie, just not that way." 

"I got that. Believe me, I got that. I'm just wondering if my brother knew about this." She focused on Ray. "Did Fraser tell my brother he was gay?" 

"I don't know. Why?" 

"It would just explain this really weird conversation I had with him once if he knew. He told me Fraser didn't go for girls like me. I wonder if he meant that Fraser just didn't go for girls, period." 

"I really don't know, Frannie." 

She let it go and switched subjects. "So are you two going to tell people?" 

Finally down to the order of business, Ray kept his voice steady. "Well, that's the thing. We don't know how that would affect protecting your brother." 

Quick on the uptake, Frannie nodded. "You want to keep it quiet until Ray gets back. That makes sense." 

"So we need you to keep a lid on it. We'll tell Welsh, Stella, and my parents, but that's it. Nobody else but you will know until the assignment's over." 

"And then what? You two going to come out?" 

"We'd like to, yeah." 

"But you're a cop, Ray." Her face got very serious as she stared right at him. "I work around cops all day, cops like Dewey and that pig Anderson. Being out could be dangerous." 

"I know." 

"But you'll do it anyway?" 

"I love him, Frannie." 

"Glad to hear it." 

"You're glad?" 

She stood up. "Well, I figure if he's going to go for guys, he might as well go for a good one." Leaning over, she kissed his cheek and then picked up her coat hanging over the back of the kitchen chair. "Don't worry about me spilling the coffee. Your secret's safe with me." 

"It's spilling the beans." 

"Beans, coffee, cappuccino. Who cares? You know what I'm saying." 

"Yeah, I do. Thanks." 

Slipping on her coat and grabbing her purse, she stepped to the door. "Tell Fraser if he doesn't treat you right, I'll come kick his tight Canadian ass." 

"No need to worry about that. Me and Ben, we're good." 

Frannie pulled up the collar of her coat, smiling fondly. "I can see that. Later, Ray." 

"Later." 

Ray sagged back on the sofa, relieved that at least one person he cared about didn't hate him for loving Ben. 

* * *

The knock at the door woke him out of a deep sleep. Confused, Ray took a few seconds to orient himself and then frowned as he looked around and didn't see his partner. Ben had a key, but he wasn't back yet. Shit. "Who is it?" 

"Stella." 

Double shit. "Give me a minute." 

Stella didn't respond as Ray pushed himself up awkwardly off the couch, taking care with the aches and pains shooting up through his side and belly. He ran a hand through his wild hair before he walked over and opened the door. "Hey, Stella." 

His ex-wife's blue eyes met his. "You look terrible." 

"Thanks. Good to see you, too. Want to come in?" 

She moved past him into the apartment and Ray rolled his eyes. He didn't need this. Where the hell was Ben anyway? 

Stella turned around and waited while Ray shut the door. He shuffled back to the couch and settled down. The hardness of her expression softened to sadness. "I hate seeing you like this." 

"Yeah, well, I'm better." He waited, but when Stella didn't speak right away, he pressed. "What do you want, Stella?" 

"It's about Gil." 

The use of Anderson's first name didn't thrill him. His voice took on an edge. "What about him?" 

"Is it true?" 

"Is what true?" 

"Did he leave you without backup?" 

"I was going to call and tell you the whole story. Just didn't get around to it." 

Impatient as always, Stella cut through his stalling. "Just tell me, Ray. Is it true? Did you really call him for backup?" 

Ray made eye contact again, knowing what he said would upset her more. "Yeah, Stella, I called him. Left a message. He never showed up." 

"He swears you didn't call. He wants me to find a way to get the investigation called off." 

That hurt, the fact that Anderson would go to Stella on top of nearly getting him killed. "You going to do that, see if you can get him out of trouble? You going to believe him over me?" 

"Don't be stupid, Ray. Of course not." Stella slumped into the chair by the sofa, looking about as tired and unhappy as the day she filed divorce papers. "I'm so sorry, Ray." 

"About what?" 

"About all this. I never imagined he could stoop to something so despicable. I actually liked him once." 

"You fucked him more than once." 

Her head snapped up, her voice angry. "That's beneath you, Ray." 

"I know. Sorry. It's just that it still hurts thinking about it." 

"You still think about it?" 

"Not so much now, but, yeah, sometimes. Even getting shot that time didn't hurt as much as coming in and seeing you two together in our bed. I still see it in my head, him on top of you, fucking you, the look on your face, a look I hadn't seen in forever. I mean, it's hard to get over something like that after all we went through." 

Suddenly pale, Stella shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Ray. It was wrong for you to find out like that." Her voice choked. "I was just lonely." 

It hurt to hear that, to know the truth of those words. His eyes stung knowing he'd failed so miserably to be the husband she needed. "I'm sorry, too." 

She hesitated. "I never loved him." 

"I know." 

"I always loved you. Always will. It's just that we both changed so much and I couldn't live with you anymore. We didn't want the same things and your undercover work didn't make it any easier. No matter what happened between us, Ray, don't think I'd ever want anything bad to happen to you." 

Ray's chest tightened. "I know that, Stella. I feel the same way. Thanks for saying it, though. I appreciate that." 

Sighing heavily, she nodded and stood back up. "I'm going to tell Gil his best option is to resign and I won't press for criminal charges." 

"You think he'll do that?" 

"There's enough evidence to indict. It's to his advantage. Besides, I can be very convincing." 

Ray remembered all too well his life with Stella and grinned despite the seriousness of the words. "Oh, I know that's right." 

"I'll take that as a compliment to my legal expertise." 

"Sure, sure, that, too." 

Stella's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Even battered, you've got a one track mind." 

"You never complained about that before." 

"No, I never did. That was never our problem." She took a deep breath and looked around. "Don't think I've seen this since you moved in. Barbara said it was nice." 

"It's nice enough, yeah." 

"Is he here?" 

"Who?" 

"The Mountie." 

"He's out with the wolf. Should be back by now. Must be enjoying the snow." 

"Does he miss Canada and the snow as much as he used to, Ray?" 

The deliberate, almost challenging tone surprised him. "Stell, what are you asking exactly?" 

"Don't be coy, Ray. It doesn't suit you. I've got eyes. I didn't live with a detective for fifteen years and not pick up a few tricks. Besides, I know you. Do you love him?" 

Relieved he didn't have to bring up the subject, he just nodded. "Yeah, I do." 

"Are you going to tell your parents?" 

"Eventually." 

"Barbara will be okay. She loves you no matter what, but you know your father. He might leave again and if he does, Barbara will go with him." 

"I know that." 

"But you'll do it anyway?" 

"I would've done it for you if I had to." 

Stella bit her lower lip as she considered his words. Then she asked, "Are you going to go back to Canada with him when he goes, because he will leave eventually, Ray. He doesn't fit here, never did." 

"We haven't really talked about that." 

"You need to." 

"We'll talk about it when we have to." Ray swallowed hard, wanting to get the words right, to convince the woman he'd loved so long that finding Fraser was a good thing. "Look, I know things aren't always going to be the same. I might have to give up the job and move north. If that happens, then I'll deal with it, we'll deal with it. I've only felt like this once before, Stella, and I wasn't the one who left. You know I don't do casual. Never did. I love him and he loves me. I can't help what my parents or you or anyone else thinks." 

"Jesus, Ray, why can't you ever fall for the easy ones?" 

"What's the fun in that?" 

Stella snorted a laugh, something Ray hadn't heard her do for years. It sounded like music. She teased him. "You're crazy, but it suits you." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

They stared at one another in silence for a few seconds before the door opened and Ben walked in with Diefenbaker. Holding a bag of groceries, Ben stalled as soon as he saw Stella standing next to the sofa. Ray recognized the frosty, but polite tone. "Ms. Kowalski." 

"Constable." 

"We didn't expect you." 

"I know. I didn't call. I should've. I'm sorry. It won't happen again." She glanced over at Ray's shocked expression at her apology to Ben and smiled. "I'll let you know what happens with Gil. Rest and get better." Still wearing her coat, she picked up her purse, stepped past Diefenbaker and stopped right next to Ben. She emphasized each word. "Do not hurt him." 

"I don't plan to." 

"Good." Stella called over her shoulder she walked into the hallway. "Bye, Ray." 

"Bye, Stella." 

As soon as she left, Ben shut the door, his face flushed. "You told her?" 

"Actually, she already knew." 

Ben put the bag on the table and then took off his hat and brown leather jacket while he considered that. "Did she?" 

"Yeah, she did. Hell, if this keeps up, we might not have to tell anybody. Seems people look at us and just know. Must be giving off sparks like crazy." 

"So it would seem." 

Ray turned and watched as Ben moved back to the kitchen to put the food away. "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing's wrong, Ray. I'm sorry I was gone so long. I took time to get some things we might need. I didn't realize Francesca would leave before I came back." 

"Or that Stella would show up." Ben didn't turn around and didn't answer. "Ben, she just came by to tell me that she's going to try to get Anderson to quit." 

"As well he should." 

"You don't have to be jealous." 

Ben stopped and turned. "Jealous? I'm not jealous of your ex-wife." 

"Could've fooled me. The green-eyed monster looks alive and well from here." 

"You're unhinged." 

"Maybe." 

Ben protested once more. "I am not jealous of Stella Kowalski." 

"Really? So, tell me what you thought when you first walked in the door and saw her here. Tell me you didn't for one second get a little bit jealous. Look me in the eye and tell me that and I'll let you off the hook." 

Shoulders slumped slightly, not meeting his eyes, Ben came to sit beside him on the sofa. "Perhaps just a tad jealous." 

"Just a tad?" 

"Well, you can hardly expect me to be without at least a twinge of resentment, Ray. You did spend most of your life with the woman. She even bears your name." 

Frowning, Ray reached out and took Ben's hand, squeezing it gently. "That bothers you, Stella having my name?" 

"Well, of course it does, Ray." 

"You saying you'd want to be called Constable Kowalski?" 

"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of Constable Fraser-Kowalski." 

"Really?" 

Ben lifted his face and met Ray's gaze. "I tried Kowalski-Fraser, but it seemed a bit awkward." Ben brought Ray's hand up to his mouth and kissed it. 

"You've actually been thinking about changing your name?" 

"The tradition of changing one's name or the joining of surnames has a long history, Ray. It represents a commitment to sharing one's life with another. I know that it's generally done with heterosexual unions, but that doesn't discount my desire for the same honor." 

Ray shook his head in amazement. "Wow." 

"Wow, Ray?" 

"Wow. I don't know what to say. It never occurred to me that you'd want to do something like that, but it's cool. I like it." 

"So you understand why I reacted like I did with Stella?" 

"Yeah. You were jealous." 

Ben didn't bother to deny it as he leaned in and kissed Ray tenderly on the mouth. As he pulled back, Ray whispered, "Never be jealous of Stella, Ben. She's the past. You're the now and the hereafter." 

"Hereafter and always, Ray." 

"You bet." With more determination than ever to make Ben believe it, Ray held his partner's face with both hands and sealed his words with a long, slow kiss. 

* * *

Awake, but still sleepy, Ray lay on his back in bed with his eyes closed. From the other room, he heard Ben's humming and the metallic sounds of pots and pans as his partner fixed a meal. Taking a deep breath, Ray recognized a familiar aroma and smiled. Couldn't be, no way. 

Rolling on his side, Ray got up carefully by swinging his legs over the side of the bed and then sitting up. Dressed in grey sweats and the hospital socks with the rubberized soles, he went to check out his suspicion. He squinted at the bright light as he walked into the kitchen. "Ben?" 

"Hi, Ray. Did you sleep well?" 

"Not bad. Is that my mum's chicken soup?" 

Ben smiled broadly and nodded as he put down the wooden spoon and lifted the lid to the big stainless steel pot simmering on the stove. "Indeed it is. Would you like a taste to see if it's ready?" 

"Sure." 

Ray stood there as Ben dipped another spoon into the soup and carefully brought it to Ray's mouth. The rich flavor exploded across his tongue. He closed his eyes and savored it. "Damn, that's good. Just right, too." 

"Sit down and I'll serve." 

Ray settled at the table and watched as Ben filled two bowls. He put them on the table and then asked, "Would you like coffee or something else to drink?" 

"Give me a soda, Sprite if we've got it." 

"Sprite it is. Ice?" 

"Just leave it in the can." 

Ben shook his head. "I didn't buy any cans, Ray, just the 2-liter bottle. It's more economical." 

"You mean it's cheaper." 

"Yes." 

"Is it in the fridge already?" 

"Yes." 

"Then just put it in a glass, no ice." 

Ben did just that and then placed saltine crackers on the table. "Would you like a sandwich, Ray? There's fresh ham or turkey from Mr. Metzmer's deli." 

"No, thanks. Have one if you want, but this is all I need." Ray took a few more bites, relishing the rush of memories the taste revived. "Where'd you get the recipe?" 

"When we last spoke, your mother regretted not being able to be here. She mentioned the soup and I suggested that I could fix it in her stead." 

"Fix it in her stead?" 

"Fix it for her to give to you." 

"Oh, okay." Ray nodded and kept eating, speaking between bites. "My mum used to fix this every single time I got sick when I was little and then when I wasn't so little. It was like this thing we had. She'd fix it and then just sit with me while I ate it. Funny thing, it always seemed to make me feel better." 

Ben smiled, pleased with the result of his cooking. "It's an excellent recipe, Ray. Your mother said it'd been in your family for many generations." 

"Yeah, my mum told me that back in Poland, my great, great, great grandmother was like this local doctor or something. She used to go around making people well with all kinds of herbs and stuff." Ray sat back, rubbing his belly, warmed by both the soup and the fond memories of those quiet moments with his mum. "It's weird. Just the smell of it makes me feel better." 

"Olfactory memory is one of the strongest emotional triggers, Ray. Studies show..." 

"Ben." 

"Yes, Ray?" 

"Thanks for the soup." 

Ben relaxed. "You're very welcome. I'm glad it turned out well enough to enjoy." 

"You have any doubts?" 

"Oh, I didn't doubt the recipe, only my skill at replicating her fine results. While it's not a difficult formula, it did require several steps." 

"You saying you made this from scratch, like starting with the chicken and everything?" 

"Why, of course, Ray. I couldn't do your mother's soup justice by buying canned chicken stock." 

"No wonder it tastes so good." Ray licked his spoon. "Could I have another bowlful?" 

"You may have as much as you'd like, Ray." 

Ben proceeded to refill his bowl and then sat back down to finish his own meal. Ray stirred the big chunks of chicken mixed with celery, carrots, and onions with lots of fresh pepper. As they sat quietly together, something tickled at the back of his mind. "Ben." 

"Yes?" 

"Do you realize that Mum never gave this recipe to Stella?" 

Ben stopped eating and put his spoon down. "Is that significant?" 

"Could be. Stella was never much of a cook, but she did ask for the recipe once and my mum said no. I mean, she and Stella are tight, but that was one thing my mum would never do, give her the recipe for the soup. Now, she gives it to you." Ray looked up and met Ben's questioning eyes. "You think she knows about us?" 

"I don't know your mother, Ray. I'm afraid you'll have to be the judge." 

"Mum's smart about stuff like this. I mean, I talk about you a lot, more than anybody else. Maybe she read something into it even before I did. It's like she's got this instinct thing or something." 

"Much like her son." 

"Yeah, sort of like that." Ray rubbed his forehead, trying to figure out what his mum was thinking. The whole thing gave him too much of a headache, so he turned his attention back to the soup. "When I talk to her next time, I'll have to see what she says." 

"Would it bother you for her to know?" 

"I want her to know." 

"And your father?" 

Ray put his spoon down, his hunger gone. "He'll probably get mad and walk out, but whether he does or he doesn't, I'm not going to waste time worrying about it." Ray got up and took his bowl to the sink. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. Thanks for the soup. It was great." 

"There's plenty more." 

"I'm full. I think I'm going to go lie down some more. I know I just got up, but I'm wiped." 

"I'll clear up and then I'll join you. It's late." 

Ray smiled and leaned back against the counter, more relaxed. "Join me? Yeah, I'd like that." 

Ben stood and moved next to Ray, wrapping his arms around his waist and gently pulling him closer for a brief kiss. Ben's head dipped and he whispered into Ray's ear. "I've missed being with you, Ray." 

"You've been with me every day in the hospital." 

"I meant like this, alone together without fear of interruption or discovery. I can't tell you how much it means to me that you're recovering so well." Ben's voice choked slightly. "I was so afraid of losing you." 

Ray hugged Ben tighter and then kissed him. "Forget the dishes. Come to bed now." 

"I need to put the soup away first." 

"Then to bed, right?" 

"Then to bed, yes." 

* * *

Ray woke to soft, feathery kisses along his belly and a hard cock begging for serious attention. He groaned and reached down, cupping the back of Ben's head. "Jesus." 

"Good morning, Ray." The words came out muffled as Ben never stopped using his mouth all over his bare skin where he'd pushed Ray's T-shirt up and out of his way. 

"Oh, god, yes." Eyes squeezed shut, Ray caught the huge wave of desire his partner inspired. Aches and pains forgotten, he relished the strong hands moving up and along his sides. Ben's morning whiskers scratched and burned the sensitive skin as his mouth mapped out every bruise, every mark. 

Ray spread his legs, wanting more, needing more as he ran his fingers through Ben's thick hair, urging him downward. Ben took the hint, cupping Ray's balls and then stroking his dick as the hungry mouth worked its way south. Ben shifted and lifted his head, his lips already swollen and deep red. "May I, Ray?" 

Ray bucked his hips, his dick throbbing in Ben's hand. The words came out breathy and needy. "I love you, Ben. I want you." 

Pleased, Ben kept his eyes trained on Ray's face as he licked the tip of Ray's cock, teasing it like a new toy. The shock of contact mixed in with Ben's sexy look nearly made him come right then. Swallowing hard, he kept his eyes open as he watched Ben use his tongue to slick up the underside, circling the tip, and then sucking the upper part of his cock into his mouth. Ben used his tongue and his lips to control the pressure, to make the suction just right. Then Ben did something totally unexpected, totally hot. He pushed one spit slick finger into Ray's ass and touched something deep inside. Jerking hard, Ray didn't last even last long enough to catch up with his scream as he exploded. Air gone, he blasted off, his back arched, his heart pumping faster than a speeding bullet. Jesus. What the fuck? 

Ben lifted his head and then shifted his whole body up over Ray's, his erection rubbing against Ray's thigh, his forehead burrowed against his lover's sweaty chest. Ben's cock seared his skin as Ben thrust only four or five times before he got off, came so hard that Ray held him tight as the spasms shook his whole body. 

Lifting Ben's face, Ray kissed him, his mouth bitter and slick. "Love you." 

Ben shifted and moved to Ray's side, his head resting on Ray's shoulder. "I love you, too." Ben took several more deep breaths before he managed to add, "Dear Lord, Ray, that was incredible." 

"You were pretty damn good yourself." 

Ben chuckled against him. "Thank you kindly. I must confess, I've wanted to do that for sometime." 

"Lucky me." 

Ben became suddenly more serious. "No, Ray. Lucky me." Ben wrapped his arms around Ray and pulled him closer. "I have a hard time believing my good fortune." 

"Same here." 

Lying quietly together, Ray relaxed even more, his breathing slowly returning to normal. He laughed lightly and rubbed his cheek against the top of Ben's head as he pulled up the sheets to cover their bodies. "Just think." 

"About what?" 

"If Turnbull hadn't had a crush on me, none of this would've happened." 

"You believe that?" 

"Sure. Don't you?" 

"You don't think we eventually would have realized the attraction?" 

"Maybe, but I think we needed that little push, that catawhatever to get going." 

"You mean catalyst?" 

"Yeah, that's it, catalyst." 

"Perhaps." 

Ray noted the sleepy drag of the word. "Tired?" 

"I believe I'm experiencing a post-orgasmic response." 

"Oh, yeah. I'm all over that." 

Ben snuggled in closer, his eyes shut, his breathing slow and easy as he dropped off to sleep. Ray gently stroked the strong face with affection, the love for the man in his arms even greater than before. He noted how the worry lines around his partner's eyes no longer strained his features, how he seemed so much younger, so much more at peace than ever before. Ray knew that no matter what, they would stay together, be real buddies, a duet that would never end. Ray closed his eyes and thought of all the ways Ben made him happy, each touch, each word, each moment they spent together. Oh, yeah, Ben made his life real greatness and he prayed for the chance to do the same for his best friend and lifelong partner. 

* * *

The End 


End file.
